


Deep End (Part 1)

by Ineedapuppyandsomevodka



Series: Deep End [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Abby is only in it for the first bit, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Drowning, F/M, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mentions of Drowning, Slow Burn, Tags Subject to Change, canon relationship with Abby, emotions are hard, evan buckley has a heart of gold and you cant convince me otherwise, mentions of previous abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineedapuppyandsomevodka/pseuds/Ineedapuppyandsomevodka
Summary: Evan Buckley has a lot going on inside his head. Like a lot. There have been plenty of specific instances that have made him the way that he is... he just doesn't like talking about it. There are days where he feels like he's in full turn out gear, wading in the water, and someone keeps adding rocks to his pockets, making it harder and harder to keep his head above the surface.Part 1 will consist of Season 1 of 9-1-1.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Abby Clark
Series: Deep End [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076462
Comments: 39
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tread Lightly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011666) by [an_alternate_world](https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_alternate_world/pseuds/an_alternate_world). 
  * Inspired by [Tethers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309606) by [red_to_black](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_to_black/pseuds/red_to_black). 
  * Inspired by [find you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439115) by [fernnette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fernnette/pseuds/fernnette). 



> A big thanks to Yami for always putting up with my bullshit, and Yerwizardharry and Buckleysbabe on tumblr for reading this through!!

Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with 911, Fox, or anything else related to that particular universe.

***

Evan Buckley seemed like the kind of person who had it all together and knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. The fact of the matter is, he wasn’t. 

He took everything to heart. 

Sure, his friends joked that he was like a golden retriever or a puppy. And maybe it seemed like he was carefree and like there wasn’t a lot going on in his head. 

He held himself to this standard that he always wanted to treat others in a way that he wanted to be treated, and sure he wasn’t always the best at it, and sure, there were times where he royally fucked things up and probably made it worse. But nevertheless, he showed up, he tried his best, and he tried to make sure everyone was loved and supported, even if he didn’t get the same things in return. 

Buck was lonely. He screwed around with people to fill this void in him that never seemed to go away. Sure it wasn’t healthy, and sure, the crew would always poke fun at him for it, but he did it anyway. It chased away feelings that he wasn’t quite ready to face. 

One of the first calls of the day was a drowning call. He was professional. Focused. He knew exactly what was needed of him.

He didn’t think of it much on the call, but he knew what the victim was feeling. He knew what it was like to take that first gasp when your lungs are burning and all you need is air. 

He didn’t like the way his lungs throbbed for the victim or the way that his throat ached thinking about it. 

The thing about drowning is that you never really forget what it feels like. 

He compartmentalized. 

He pushed the feeling down, as deep as it would go, and went back to the station with his team. 

In his best effort to avoid anything that might have looked like processing or dealing with it a healthy way, he took the ladder truck and met up with a girl to hook up. He wasn’t ready to have that talk with his team, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face whatever backlash was going to come of it. He knew when he signed up for this job that water rescues were going to be apart of it. He knew that he was going to have to see stuff that was going to make him uncomfortable and he was okay with it. 

He was dealing with it. 

“Can I, uh, can I get your actual number?” He asked when all was said and done, buttoning up his pants. 

“You’re cute, and....” she trailed, “you’re very good at whatever it is we just did, but let’s not ruin anything by actually getting to know each other.”

Objectively, Buck knew he was good at sex. He knew he was good looking. He knew he was a good person. But, he still had his doubts. He still chased away his feelings looking for the next adrenaline rush. He craved his next partner. 

He was hell-bent on not being alone with his thoughts. 

Who would want to get to know a guy like him anyway?

****

The first time Buck drowned was when he was six years old. He slipped and fell into the pool in his parent’s backyard. 

Maybe it was the lack of love and warmth that he felt from his own parents that made him so angry when they found the baby that had been shoved down the drainage pipe. After all, the baby was drowning, suffocating, and if they had gotten there any later, the baby would have died. 

What kind of parent would let their kid suffer?

“You don’t get to choose between who lives and who dies,” Athena Grant told him after he finds out that he’s unable to go into the hospital and make sure that the baby survives. 

“Really? Because I was under the impression that kind of was my job.” He knew that wasn’t his choice, but he couldn’t help but deflect. 

Deflecting was what Buck did best. After years of learning how to push his feelings down, to not feel, he’d gotten pretty good at putting on a show for everyone to see. 

No one knew the real Evan Buckley. 

Truth be told, he was worried about that baby. Someone had to worry about that baby. Someone had to be there to stick up for it, to fight for it--

“The next time you screw up, it’ll be your last.”

The look Bobby gave him was a look he knew all too well. Disappointment. 

Just when he thought he was doing a good thing, he fucked it up again. 

***

Some days Buck feels like he’s swimming in his turnout gear, and someone keeps adding rocks to his pockets.

When he was caught having sex on the roof of an apartment complex after stealing the ladder truck for a second time that week, his stomach dropped six floors. 

“You’re fired,” Bobby said, giving Buck the best disapproving dad look he could muster. “You made this choice yourself and you rubbed it in my face. The same exact infraction two days after I wrote you up. It’s not 1950 anymore, Buck, we work side by side with women. When you swing your dick around you’re disrespecting them.” 

“I think I may be a sex addict!” His voice came out a lot squeakier than intended, so he cleared his throat. “Self-diagnosed.”

That was the best way to describe it, right? Some people turned to drugs and alcohol for comfort and Buck, well, he sought affection. He sought out what was rarely given to him, and even if it was just a hook up it was enough to hold him off and push all of his feelings away for long enough that he didn’t have to worry about the thoughts that would sometimes trickle into his mind. 

“Do you think this is a joke?“ Bobby narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “Is this a joke to you?”

“No-“

“How much does your kit weigh when you’re fully geared up? How much?”

“I don’t know, 60 pounds give or take,” Buck replied and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Right, 60 pounds. So when you choose this life you find a way to leave everything behind you except for that 60 pounds. I don’t care if you have problems with your wife, with money, with alcohol, with keeping it in your pants. All that stuff weighs you down. It slows you down, and if we lose a couple of seconds people die. So if you want to disrespect yourself that’s fine with me. You want to disrespect these women that you chase around, that’s on them. But you are done disrespecting our firehouse and this fire department.”

“Wait, Bobby,” Buck pleaded, eyebrows pinched in sincerity. “I need this job. I love this job. Don’t do this to me. I-I don’t have anything else.” 

“I’m sorry kid, I said you’re done.”

***

Buck knew he was a lot. He was loud, he had a lot of energy. He said the wrong thing at the wrong time. He was annoying. 

His parents made sure that he knew he was a lot. They frequently told him that he needed to “tone it down” or “read the room” or “just shut up, Evan, for once.” 

Buck knew how to read a room. He was fairly certain that at any given point he knew what someone was thinking based on their facial expressions and their body language. He could frequently tell when negative energy was directed at him and he tried his best to back off. 

The outlets that he had for his nervous, hyperactive lifestyle were saving people and sex. 

Sex was always easy for him. He knew how to get girls, or guys if he was feeling it. Sex didn’t always make him feel good, though. It was an outlet, but he let feelings get involved when he shouldn’t and he was always left wanting something that his sexual partners didn’t seem to have much interest in. 

He craved a relationship, but he didn’t think that he was deserving of one. 

When he got back to the 118, he could read the other’s faces pretty clearly. He could sense the disappointment. He had been around this team long enough that he was pretty in tune with their moods. 

“You’ve got some skills, just not a lot of discipline,” Hen had told him, and it felt like a punch in the gut. 

Discipline was something he was working on. In all of his failed attempts at growing up, he never really understood what people thought discipline was. It seemed that everyone had their own definition.

Some people thought discipline was timeliness, and to show up ready to work. Buck had that down pretty good. He was always ready to work when he was at work and the one time that he had been late since he had been fired was because of a serious car accident on the 405-- one where he got out of the car to help the first responders at the scene. 

Some people thought that discipline was keeping emotions in check. Buck was pretty good at that, seeing as though he didn’t really let other people see or know what he was truly feeling at any given point. 

So yeah, he didn’t understand what Hen meant by that, but it wasn’t the first time someone had said something like it to him, so he sucked it up and briefly let his guard down to ask if she could do anything to help him out. 

She was saved by the bell. 

He packed up his locker while the team ran a call, and thought about all of his life choices that led up to him being kicked off of the one thing he found that actually mattered to him. 

He considered the 118 his family, but they didn’t consider him apart of theirs, and that stung. 

***

He didn’t have long to sit with his thoughts and feelings, he’ll thank god for that later. While the team was out on a call and he was still at the station, he got a call from Hen saying that his help was needed, and who was he to deny that? He was already fired, so it wasn’t like taking one of the engines was actually going to do any more damage, right?

“She sent you, huh?” Athena asked, more than one hint of disdain in her voice. 

He ignored the tingling in his stomach and avoided rolling his eyes because it had never done him any good. 

“I was available.” He told her, trying to keep professional. 

“All right. No Heroics. Don’t go chasing waterfalls,” She replied. 

“I don’t know what that means,” he huffed, looking forward. He’d probably look it up later, and stew over it for far too long. 

“Nobody thought you would,” she stared him down like she was seeing right through him. 

He did as he was told, regardless of how he thought about Athena. This was bigger than that. He was there to help people. She needed him, thus he was going to do everything he could, even if it meant just driving through the neighborhood with the sirens on so that the little girl whose house was being robbed could be saved. 

Then the girl’s mom got home and Buck let his mind stop thinking and let instincts kick in, making sure that everyone stayed safe. Fight or flight was never his M.O. in situations like these. He could stay calm in the chaos, like his brain shut off to anything and everything he was feeling to make sure that everyone else was okay. 

He could hear the 911 operator, Abby Clark, and he could hear the desperation yet clarity in her voice. She was good under pressure. 

In the next few moments, a lot happened; the girl and one of the intruders were heading out the front door. The intruder let go of the girl in an effort to flee the scene. The girl and her mom were reunited, but the intruder was heading back and it was very clear that he was heading back with a vengeance. 

He’s not exactly sure what possessed him to grab the hose, but his instincts hadn’t failed him yet, so he did it anyway. He blasted the intruder off his bike and sent him flying, ultimately saving Athena from the bullets that were headed in her direction. 

They shared a look, probably one of the first looks from Athena he’d received that wasn’t hateful. She almost looked thankful. Almost. He’d take it. 

Then he heard Abby yelling on the other end of his phone, asking for an update and wanting to know that everyone was okay. There was a sense of panic in her voice like she’d been in this situation far too many times but never knew the outcome of these calls. He knew that dispatchers had it even worse than he did. When he took patients to the hospital he at least knew what kind of condition they were in when they got there. Dispatchers did not have that luxury of even knowing they even made it to the hospital. 

He talked to Abby with ease, trying his hardest to comfort her at that moment. “She’s back with her mom, and you should be here.” He told her, giving her the best Buckley charm he could. 

“Oh my god, I feel like I am,” she replied, but he could hear the relief in her voice. She chuckled nervously on the other end of the phone. “Wow, um, okay. Well, I can’t thank you enough. I-I... I’m so grateful. You saved that little girl and--”

“No, you did,” Buck interrupted. “You kept her in the game long enough for us to find her. You’re the real hero here.” 

“Well, I appreciate you saying that. Thank you.”

Buck let himself have that moment of gratitude. He let himself be in that moment, before the dread of knowing he had to return the truck to the station and face everyone again set in. 

***

When he returned, Bobby and Hen were waiting for him in the ladder bay. 

He hopped out of the truck and immediately faced Bobby with a frown on his face. He rehearsed in his head what he was going to say on the drive back, but it didn’t make it any easier. 

Those metaphorical rocks in his pockets were either getting heavier or somewhere in between the time the call ended and when he got into the truck a few more had been added to his pockets. He was feeling weighed down, but he pushed it aside and peeled himself out of the truck to face disappointment. 

“I know what this looks like,” Buck said, avoiding eye contact with his captain. 

“It looks like you took the engine out, in your street clothes,” Bobby said, seeking his gaze.

“I didn’t really have time to change,” he deflected. 

“Athena Grant called me,” Cap said with a slight change in his tone, his posture softening, “she wanted to tell me what an asset you are. Told her she was half right.” 

“Are you giving me another chance?” He asked as a sense of relief washed over him, finally meeting Bobby’s eyes. 

“You’ve used all your chances; so have I. Because somehow I have failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do,” Bobby replied, then pivoted and walked back into the station. 

“You’re wrong, Bobby,” Buck said, following after him with confidence in his step. “I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here. And you know what? You were right to fire me. I was a punk. Uh, I still am one. But I am a punk who understands what he lost. Just needed you to know that.”

“I hope you mean that,” Bobby replied without facing him. “Go get dressed.” 

He turned to look at Hen, overwhelming disbelief crossing his face. “I think I’m not fired,” he said to her, and he’s not sure if it’s a question or a statement, but he can’t help the smile that is tugging at his lips.

“Your shift’s not over yet,” she pointed out. 

He let out a nervous chuckle of relief, and let it wash over him as all of the bad thoughts and feelings from the day flooded out of him. He meant every word that he said to Bobby, and he wasn’t going to let him down. Not again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this a day early because tomorrow is supposed to be crazy and I don't want to forget.  
> I also want to thank Elisa, Buckleysbabe (@evanbuckleydiaz) over on tumblr for reading everything through for me <3  
> Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of suicide.

About every few months or so, there is always a call that rattles some people more than others. It leaves a mark. Buck has had a lot of these calls over his first few months on the job, but nothing rattled him quite as badly as Devon.

He specifically remembers telling Bobby that the daredevil hero stuff is what he signed up for. What he didn’t sign up for was the guilt and the trauma of losing a patient. 

He promised the people on the roller coaster that night that he was going to get everyone off of it safely. Deep down, he knew it was going to be tricky. The people were hanging upside down on one of the loops when the ride came to a stop. Devon and his friend’s restraint had come loose, his friend went flying, so Devon was hanging on as tightly as he could. 

He had told Devon that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. He wanted so badly to help him, but at the end of the day, some people don’t want to be helped. 

“I was right there,” he sighed, looking at his empty coffee cup when they were back at the station. “All he had to do was reach up and grab my hand.”

“People do funny things at times like that,” Chimney said, trying to impart words of wisdom on his younger counterpart. “Sometimes they just freeze up.”

“I never lost anyone before,” Buck said, swallowing thickly. 

Sure, he had been on calls where people had died, but usually, he was not the reason for them dying. People would go into cardiac arrest, and there were things that he could do before someone with more experience stepped in to help out. 

“Does it get any easier?” He asked, looking at both Chim and Bobby. 

“No,” Bobby answered honestly. 

“Look,” Chim started with a sigh, “people die and that’s part of the gig, right? See, your problem is that you’re looking at every job like it’s a long-term relationship. They’re one-night stands, man. In that moment, they mean everything to you, but once the morning comes... It’s on to the next one.” 

That was a lot for Buck to unpack. He sat there, trying to think that one over while Athena Grant made herself welcome at the station. She made him feel something that he didn’t like. The best way that he could describe it was uncomfortable. Or maybe it felt like she was the teacher and he was the problem student and there wasn’t a whole lot that he could do to get into her good graces.

He knew that there was a reason he felt that way; he hadn’t really had a lot of good experiences with cops when he grew up. There were a few different instances where he needed the police to be on his side, they weren’t and it still left a bad taste in his mouth. It’s part of the reason he chose the fire route instead of law enforcement. He felt he’d be able to help more, other than just having to deal with a whole lot of bureaucratic nonsense. 

Athena spoke words of wisdom and truth, though. Bobby let her know that he was upset, so she made sure that he knew at the end of the day he could take off his uniform and let go of all the sad and crazy things that were thrown his way. 

“I still see his face every time I close my eyes, does that happen to you guys?” He asks, looking across the table. 

“It’ll pass,” Athena promised. 

***

That call had made national attention, and every time someone brought it up, all he could see was Devon letting go, Devon falling, and Devon landing. 

He played through everything in his head time and time again. Was there a way that he could have handled it better? Could he have grabbed the man before he fell? What if he had said something, anything different?

A few of the news stations came to the station and had questions for Buck. They didn’t really care about Devon or what happened to him. They were mostly there just to get the scoop on the hot firefighter who managed to get “everyone else down safely.” It made Buck’s skin crawl. 

They were running training ops in the mountain one day and he was working the hose on some burning brush. The training was controlled and out of wildfire season so there wasn’t much to worry about. He let his mind wander. He wondered what Devon felt when he fell. Did he feel anything? Did it hurt? Or was it peaceful to let go and--

He was pulled out of his train of thought by a phone call. He didn’t have the number saved, but he answered anyway. 

It was Abby, the 9-1-1 operator he spoke to at the home invasion. 

She was the first person to check in with him. She was someone he didn’t even know, and she could sense that something was off. Buck felt oddly touched by it, honestly. Nobody at the station had actually asked him if he was doing okay. They just kind of told him to move on and that it would get better. 

“Thank you for noticing,” he told her. “Everywhere I go, people are patting me on the back and I just want to scream back at them, ‘you know people died. I had to watch them die.’” 

“I know,” Abby sympathized. “I had to listen to people die before. The silence after they stop talking is like no other kind of quiet.” 

“The guy who fell,” He recounted for her, “all he had to do was grab my hand and I couldn’t get him to.” 

“You know, believe it or not, there are some people who actually take those moments as opportunities to make that decision. I mean, there are some people who just don’t want to be saved.”

There was something profound about that. Something that eased Buck’s mind, and made it just a little easier to breathe. At the end of the day, maybe it wasn’t something he did or didn’t do. Maybe there was no way of actually stopping him. 

“Thanks for calling. Maybe I can call you again sometime?” He asked, with the slightest bit of hope. 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” she responded, and Buck couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “You have my number now, or you can just dial 911.” 

Someone actually wanted to talk to him? Have a conversation? Something more than just fucking him? 

***

Buck’s still not completely sure why, but he showed up to Devon’s funeral. He thought that maybe if he went, then it would give him some sort of closure. 

Buck felt everything deeply. He wanted everyone to have the same opportunities and to be treated with kindness and respect. He knew that behind closed doors, everyone had their own issues they were dealing with, and if he could just be there for them, then maybe it would ease their pain just a little bit. 

He wanted to apologize to Devon's family. He wanted to let them know how badly he felt for not being able to do anything. And maybe he said the wrong things this time too because his sister made sure that he knew that Devon was full of life. 

“He wanted to live and you failed him.” 

***

Buck couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t help but feel like there were so many other ways that the call could have gone. He filtered through the what-if’s, feeling sick to his stomach. 

Logically, he knows that he and his team did everything that they could, but mentally it still isn't enough. 

He showed up to his next 24 with little to no sleep. He froze on a call when he shouldn’t have, and the look on Bobby’s face screamed that he wasn’t doing the right thing. 

When they got back to the station, Bobby found him in the locker room, sitting on the bench hunched over. There was so much going on in his head, that he really didn’t have the mental capacity to discuss it with his captain. He was usually so good at hiding what he was feeling, but without much sleep, the walls he normally kept up with steel beams and reinforced concrete were nothing but old, rotten wood in the wind. 

Today he felt like he had cinderblocks tied to the bottom of his boots and someone was ready to push him into the water. He was tall though, and strong, and the water wasn’t that deep because the people around him knew the type of pain that he was feeling, so he didn’t feel the need to cover it up like it was some big secret. If his dad were here he’d probably--

“Don’t alright, I know I-I let you down.,” he blurted before Bobby could even get a word out, interrupting his own train of thought. He stood up, leaning against the lockers, putting all of his defenses up and ready for a fight.

His captain, who was nothing like his father, heard him out. There was nothing about Bobby’s posture that was threatening. It was a knowing and thoughtful look that eased wherever Buck’s mind was headed. 

It was just the two of them in the locker room, so Buck took a deep breath and let his shoulders hunch a little in an effort to relax. 

“A year ago, I put in to be a Navy SEAL.” He started, looking forward. Eye contact was especially hard on days where he felt heavy.

“I didn’t know you were in the Navy,” Bobby replied, keeping his body language soft.

“I wasn’t. You don’t have to be in the Navy to try out for the SEALs,” he said, making a move to sit down, trying to relax a bit more. “You just have to be particularly badass, which you know... I am. I didn’t have any trouble with the physical part. Following orders wasn’t my best quality, but hey, I was working on it.”

Bobby moved to sit down next to him but left some space between himself and Buck. Buck was thankful for it. “Why didn’t it stick?”

“They wanted machines,” he swallowed, finally looking over to make eye contact with Bobby. “People who could flip a switch in their head and turn off every natural, human instinctive emotion in their body, and I cannot do that. I don’t-- I don’t want to do that. I love this job because I get to be the tough guy but I also get to help people.”

Bobby took a second to take that all in, but nothing about it makes Buck nervous. It was like he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. Like he was trying to help. 

“Do you remember the first person you lost?” Buck asked on a whim. 

It took Bobby even longer to answer that, and Buck almost regrets asking it. 

“Katherine Vance-- 32 years old, blonde hair, green eyes. She was wearing a blue University of Michigan T-shirt, white shorts and she had on black Converse High Tops. She had painted smiley faces on the toes,” he recounts, looking somber. “The last thing she said to me was ‘Please,’ and then she was gone. Hit by a drunk driver and I couldn’t extract her in time.” 

They share a brief look and Buck is latching onto the idea that his captain gets it. He knows exactly what he’s going through and it helps. 

“I’m glad you can’t... flip that switch,” he continues. “I don’t want you to. It’s not going to make you a better firefighter, and anyone who tells you that losing someone doesn’t affect them is lying.”

They sit in silence for a moment before Bobby reaches into his pocket and hands Buck a card. “The name and number of a trauma counselor. We have people in the department who help us deal with this kind of stuff. You don’t have to talk to me, but you do have to talk to someone.”

***

Buck wonders for a while if Bobby knows that there is more going on inside his head that isn’t related to just Devon. He sits on his bed in his room in a house that he shares with a bunch of other people. He’s living here because the rent is cheap, not because he likes it. 

There are some days where he really wishes that he lived alone so that he could be alone. His roommates are loud, and he wouldn’t exactly call any of them friends. They’re more just people that he coexists with. 

The house that he is living in isn’t home. He’s struggled with this concept for a while now because everyone always talks about how excited they are to go home. He’s never really felt that.

He’s not really sure what home feels like. 

He made an appointment with the trauma counselor that Bobby had suggested, and it has him thrumming with anxiety. There’s a lot of boxes in his head that he’s categorized and pushed way in the back of his mind and he really doesn’t want to talk about. Some of the boxes he’s packed so tightly and with so much duct tape, he’s scared to open them because he’s not sure that everything will fit back in the way it’s supposed to. 

When he finally goes to the counselor the next morning, he’s ready to talk about Devon. He had the conversation perfectly planned out in his head, and he had strict boundaries that he was going to stick to. 

They introduce themselves and it’s a little awkward, but they move past it. 

“I’m not really into feelings,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I mean feeling, yeah, just not, you know, talking about them.”

“Okay,” she says with a friendly smile, and for a moment Buck thinks that it might be too friendly.

They get to talking about Devon and for a moment Buck is crying, and it feels like it’s all too much. He looks up at her, and he decides he’s done talking and done crying. He’s done being sad, so he quickly shoves everything sad that’s going on in his head into a metaphorical box and slams it shut so quick he almost gives himself whiplash. 

He wipes his eyes, immediately wanting to feel something different than the ache in his chest and his brain quickly decides that it needs affection.

“Hey, um, did you by chance friend me on Facebook?” He asked, biting his lip. He’s giving her a look that’s all too suggestive and he kind of hates himself for it. He knows he should be here talking about his feelings, but what he wants to feel is something completely different. 

That’s how things quickly go from Buck talking about his feelings to him and his therapist feeling each other up. 

He sleeps with her in her office, and as soon as they’re done she immediately shoos him off. 

He can’t help but think about how yes, he does feel better, but he also feels kind of slimy. He’s not sure if he took advantage of her or if she took advantage of him, and he’s really not sure what to do with that. So, he just leaves and goes home. 

***

One day when they get back from a call, and Buck is starting to feel a little more like himself, Devon’s sister shows up. 

She came to tell him that she’s sorry, which was a relief because he was almost certain that she was going to put a damper on his day and he just wasn’t ready for that. 

She told him that it wasn’t his fault that her brother was dead, and explains that she knew he wasn’t doing well mentally and hadn’t been for a while. She blamed herself.

“There’s nothing that either of us could have done for Devon,” Buck explains to her softly. “Some people just don’t want to be saved. A friend said that to me recently, and um... it helped.”

He hopes it helps her too.

***

The next time his phone rings, it’s Abby. 

She’s nice, and kind, and probably a lot older than him, judging by the fact that they’ve only talked on the phone and never texted. 

She asks him out on a date, and his heart does this weird thing in his chest because he knows he has to turn her down. 

He lets her off easy because he likes her. He wants to keep talking to her. So he tells her the truth. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! What do you think so far? Is there something that you want to see happen in this? I've almost got all of season 1 written, which means I'll be getting into the extra juicy thoughts of what Buck thinks of Eddie that first day on shift with him.... We just have to get through Abby first.  
> Come yell at me on tumblr! I'm ineedapuppyandsomevodka.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter: There are undertones of sexual abuse that Buck has a hard time processing (and really doesn't).

“Hey, I never got around to asking you, but how was your therapy session?” Bobby asked when it was just the two of them together in the kitchen. Buck was sat on the counter and Bobby was getting their family dinner ready. Buck had helped some, but he still felt pretty useless in the kitchen and let Bobby do most of the work.

“Oh, it went fine,” Buck said, immediately looking down at his coffee like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“Yeah?” Bobby pried, stirring the vegetables that he was cooking on the stove. “Was it helpful? Did you like them? There are other therapists too, so if the first one wasn’t right for you, you can always try someone else.”

“Yeah, I-I, um, I just don’t think therapy is for me,” Buck said and took another sip of his coffee. His heart clenched in his chest, immediately wanting to drop the subject. 

“I thought the same too, kid, but I think that it would really help you through some of the stuff that you’ve seen and the things that you are going to see while on this job,” his captain told him, adding some spices to the pan as he talked. 

Buck nodded and sat there for a few moments, trying to wrap his head around whether or not he should tell Bobby what happened. Maybe if he told him, then he would lay off and quit bringing it up. On the other hand, if he told him that he slept with the therapist, then there were probably going to be some sort of ramifications, all of which lead to disappointment and probably some form of teasing from the others down the line. 

It wasn’t his proudest moment, but it wasn’t his first casual hook-up.

Bobby continued to cook, being especially patient with him. It was clear that he had more to say, and he probably had one form of fatherly advice or another to give him, and Buck was thankful for that sort of relationship with his captain. 

He should probably tell him. 

Buck opened his mouth and shut it a few different times before he pursed his lips together, put down his coffee, and faced Bobby. 

“I slept with her,” He confessed, ready for whatever was going to come his way. 

“That girl that you’ve been talking to on the phone?” Bobby asked, nudging bucks knee so that he could access the drawer beneath where he was sitting. 

“No,” Buck said, swinging himself off of the counter. 

Bobby looked up at him like he was waiting for him to continue speaking. Buck raised an eyebrow, hoping that his captain would catch on, but alas, nothing. 

“I slept with my therapist.” He frowned, not liking the taste in his mouth as he said it out loud. 

Bobby’s face did something that buck was completely unprepared for, and went through a full range of emotions. His eyes were wide like he was surprised, but his lips were pinched together in something buck couldn’t quite put his finger on? Disappointment? No, he’d been given that look a lot and whatever this was, it wasn’t a disappointment. Anger? Maybe. 

“Your therapist did what now?”

“She did me,” He replied casually, trying to act like his captain's reaction didn’t sting. It did. A lot. 

“That’s completely unprofessional,” Bobby said as he turned the stove off, giving the dish one final stir. 

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry Bobby, really,” Buck said as he swallowed thickly. He was trying to look anywhere in the kitchen where Bobby wasn’t. “It was stupid of me, and I know what you’re going to say, I crossed a line-”

“She’s the one who crossed a line, Buck, not you,” Bobby said, stepping into the young firefighter’s space. “She took advantage of you. You were there to talk to her about what’s going on with you, and presumably your sex addiction. You were there to seek help, not for a casual hook up in her office. It’s unprofessional and it’s just wrong.”

“I know, Bobby, and I’m really sorry,” Buck pursed his lips together, still feeling like he was in the wrong. 

While Bobby might be trying to put it on his therapist, he knew that they both consented to it. There wasn’t a whole lot that led up to the hook-up, and quite honestly, Buck still really feels like he’s the one who seduced her, not the other way around. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Bobby said, reaching into the cabinet to grab plates for everyone. 

“I wasn’t taken advantage of, though, Bobby. If anything, I took advantage of her,” he told him, going to grab forks and knives to set the table so he could at least feel somewhat helpful. He’d been taken advantage of before, and whatever happened with his therapist, it wasn’t that. 

“No, believe me, Buck, she is a professional. She knew exactly what she was doing and she could have put a stop to it. She didn’t. That’s on her, not on you.” Bobby said as he dished up the meal that he had made. “I want you to know that I am not mad at you, but I am going to have to say something to the department. She shouldn’t be working with the department if she’s going to sleep with her clients."

“You can’t get her fired!” He squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Seriously, it was mutual, I swear.”

“I get that it was mutual, Buck, I’m not discrediting that. What I’m saying is that what she did cannot go unreported because it’s either happened to someone else or it will happen to someone else, and the department needs to know,” He said as he handed Buck the dished up food to place on the table. “You may not feel taken advantage of, but if you seriously think that you are addicted to sex, and you went to talk to someone about it and that person slept with you... it’s not okay, Buck. That just doesn’t sit right with me.”

Buck didn’t respond, he just kind of nodded and finished setting the table, a range of emotions going through his mind. The team came up to eat family dinner, and everyone was about two bites in before the alarm bells rang and they had to leave for a call.

***

When they got back from the call, a minor car accident where thankfully the worst injury was a broken arm, Buck felt a lot better and a hell of a lot less guilty. Bobby hadn’t made him feel bad for his choices and he hadn’t talked down to him, both of which were huge wins in his ever worrying mind. 

He felt like the rocks that had been in his pockets since he slept with his therapist were lessened. It made him feel substantially lighter.

It also made him far more in-tune with what seemed to be going on with everyone else, and there was very clearly something up with Chimney.

Buck tried to brush it off, though and settled on the couch to play games with Hen. They were both competitive, but it was always in good spirit and a great way for Buck to take his mind off of everything that was going on. 

He loved Hen, more than he could express. She was kind, and she always knew what to say. It often seemed like she knew exactly what was going on in his head, and she kept things lighthearted like she genuinely wanted what was best for everyone on the team. Buck included. 

Ignoring Chimney’s mood was only going to last for so long though. The guy was clearly upset about something, but Buck wasn’t going to be the first to ask because he didn’t feel that it was his place. Some people don’t want to be asked. 

But then it becomes a thing, and Buck is trying to give relationship advice (quite honestly he doesn't feel like he’s probably the best person to be giving advice, but he does it anyway), and mentions an open marriage, which probably crosses more lines than one. 

It left him really regretting even opening his mouth because Chimney ended up storming off for unrelated comments from Bobby, and not even an hour later they were being called out to a car accident involving Chimney and a rod of rebar that had shot clear through his head and out the other side. 

Buck was gutted. 

***

The rest of the shift went by painfully slow. They still had to go about their day as usual, despite a member of their team being down for the count.

The good news was, Chimney wasn’t dead. They’d brought him into emergency surgery, and there were a few complications that put him in a medically induced coma, but Bobby seemed okay with most of the details, which gave Buck a lot of hope. There was a chance he was going to be okay, that he was going to wake up and that he was going to be back to work, and Buck was going to cling to that.

“Yo, Hen, is it wrong I was stoked there was an emergency? I was climbing the walls back at the house.” Buck said as they arrived on scene at a call involving people trapped in the back of a semi. It was hotter than hell out, Bobby had given them their assignments and they were instructed to work as quickly as possible. 

“We all were,” Hen deadpans, “and yeah, it’s wrong. We’re not here to blow off steam, we’re here to help.” 

Buck snapped his mouth shut quickly and turned to grab his back out of the firetruck. He quickly went to Bobby, and they started extracting the victims from the truck. 

Things weren’t great, but they certainly could have been worse if no one had called the truck in. People were severely dehydrated, some of them suffering from heatstroke, and others were going to need to go to the hospital. They triaged the scene, and Buck put his heart and soul into making sure that everyone who needed to be taken care of was. He handed out water, checked on people, and made sure to lend a hand where it was needed. He blocked out everything else because people needed help, and if there was anything that Evan Buckley was good at, it was helping people. 

Not long after they had everyone extracted, Buck saw Hen tackle a guy and lay him out. She cussed him out and held him down until the police took over for her. It raised attention from everyone around, and Buck started walking towards Hen

“That was badass, but I thought we weren’t here to blow off steam,” he said, trying to keep his tone light and playful. 

“You know what you can blow,” she retorted, nothing about her tone was light nor playful. 

“Hen...”

That stung, a little. He loved Hen, and he knew that one of her best friends was in the hospital, so she was probably just taking it out on him. But Buck couldn’t help but wonder if Hen thought as fondly of him as he thought of her. He relied on her for a number of things. She was usually the first to tell him if he overstepped in any way, or she’d give him a look that told him if he was taking something too far, or if he should continue. 

Being shut down by her wasn’t something that he was used to. 

He didn’t have long to stew on it. His phone rang and it was Abby, so he answered it. 

“Hey, uh, everything okay?” he asked.

“You answered. You always answer, you’re so sweet,” she said, sounding a little distressed. “I-uh, everything is fine, is this a bad time?”

“Uh, no. I’m-I’m at a call, but I-I wanted to answer and, you know, make sure you’re not out on a ledge or something,” he replied, almost feeling like he was out on that ledge himself. 

She chuckled nervously as Buck paced in the parking lot where the call was staged. He had stepped out of the roped-off area and to somewhere a little more private so that no one would listen in. 

“Thank you, I can’t believe you’re at a call. Um, I’m not on a ledge, but I’m in a windowsill. You’re on a call. I’m letting you go. Get back to work. We can talk later.”

Buck’s heart did this little thing that it did when he felt like he was being rejected, and he wanted anything other than to feel it within a minute of the last time. 

“Nah, come on, tell me.” 

“No, it’s just my mom,” she said with what sounded like a stressful scoff. “My mom has Alzheimer’s, did I tell you that? I can’t remember if I told you that or not.”

“No, uh, I didn’t know that, I’m sorry,” he replied with as much sincerity as he could muster.

“Um, thanks, and she’s just... slipping, you know? She's getting worse and I... I’m starting to feel like she might need more than just me,” she told him, and Buck could feel the pressure that she was under. Wanting to be there to help, but feeling completely inadequate to do so. “More help. Professional help.”

“You mean like a home?” He asked, hoping it was the right thing to say. 

“Yeah.” She responded, and before Buck could read too much into the response, she continued, “although, even when you say it out loud, I’m paralyzed with guilt at the thought of it. I mean she’s my mom, right?”

“Yeah, that’s rough,” he said, trying to sympathize with her there. He hadn’t talked to his mom in months if not well over a year. “Look, I don’t... I don’t know a lot. But if there’s one thing that I’ve learned over the last 24 hours the only thing that matters is family.”

“Right,” she responded quietly. “Yes. You’re so right. Thank you.”

“Yeah, you got it,” he said, feeling kind of like a fraud. The closest thing he had to family right now was the 118, and even then things were pretty shaky. “Look, I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

***

If Buck was smart, he’d take his own advice. Family is the only thing that matters. Why was that such a hard concept for him to wrap his mind around?

Maybe it’s because his own family didn’t even take the time to reach out to him. He sent them all Christmas cards every year and made sure that he sent his mom and his sister texts on their birthdays. His dad... well, his dad got a Christmas card that was addressed to his mom. 

The problem was, no matter how often he tried to reach out to them, neither his mom nor his sister bothered to return the sentiments. His mom, he understood. He’d said some pretty mean things to his dad before he left, and she was probably still stuck on the idea that Buck needed to apologize. 

He wasn’t going to. 

Maddie, on the other hand, he wasn’t sure what was up with her. She got married and moved out. She had issues with their parents too and left as soon as she could. She used to connect with Buck every now and then, but she’d been pretty radio silent for the last couple of years. 

If he were to sit around and think about things for long enough, he could probably trace a lot of the issues that he had to his family and how they treated him growing up, but those thoughts were packed away tight with thick layers of duct tape, probably growing cobwebs in his brain. 

He was tired and his head was spinning. He wasn't sure how he felt about sleeping with his therapist, but he knew whatever the feeling was it wasn't good. He had to wonder if it stemmed from childhood trauma-- if he could even call it that. It's not that his parents were bad people, they weren't. He had an okay upbringing, but there was a lot that happened that after all these years he still wasn't ready to face. Family was family, and as messy as his biological family was, despite everything, part of him still loved them.

He had his new family to think about; his chosen family. Sure, they were dysfunctional at best, and he didn’t really know where he stood with Hen, or Bobby, or Chimney, but for some unknown reason, they seemed to care about him, even if it was only just a little. It eased a fraction of gnawing at his brain that had him convinced that no one would truly love him.

Chimney was a big pressure point for him. The guy was in the hospital, and after visiting him, Buck felt a lot better for his recovery. He held onto the hope that the guy who made jokes about Buck having zero pop-culture knowledge, would be back at the station soon enough. 

He had this aching feeling that he needed to text his sister to check-in. He talked himself out of it while he was at the station. After all, he was pretty exhausted with the fact that not even his own sister would take the time to text him, let alone text him back to a message as simple as “how are you.”

At the end of the day, though, she was still his sister. He wasn’t ready to burn any bridges with her. 

So, he pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and hoped to God that his big sister hadn’t changed her number. 

**Evan Buckley** 22:54: Hey Mads, haven’t heard from you in a while. I just wanted to know I love you, and I miss you and I hope you’re doing well. 

(He also hoped she’d actually text back this time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so we're slowly learning a little more about Buck, and it's intentional. The way that I process things sometimes takes a loooooong time because I shove things so deep to make sure that everyone around me is taken care of. I don't like to give off the impression that I'm not okay and I think Buck does it too. Anyone else do that? So you're going to get crumbs here and there, but I'm trying to make sticking around worth it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like the chapter and I can't wait to hear from you <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Mentions of drowning and mentions of alcohol abuse.

Buck stared at Bobby one afternoon. They were halfway through their shift, which had been fairly easy and lowkey so far. They had spent plenty of time at the station and Buck was getting restless. 

He stole one of the peppers out of whatever dish Hen was warming in the pan. She swatted his hand away, making some comment about how if he wants some, then he should just ask. 

“He’s doing it again,” he grunted, only peeling his eyes away from the back of Bobby’s head for a second.

“Doing what?” She asked, unamused.

“Just staring, going through that book of his,” he said and slid off the counter where he was sitting. “I’m going to ask him about it.” 

“All ll I’m going to tell you about that book is to stay the hell away from it,” Hen sighed and moved her meal from the pan to a plate. “Trust me. I made that mistake three months into working here.”

“So you’re saying no one here knows what he writes in it? Well, watch this,” he said, and probably put a little too much confidence in his step as he started out of the kitchen and to where Bobby was sitting in the loft. He and Bobby had some sort of a connection, Buck could get him to talk about it, right?

“Alright, Buck, when he pops you in that pretty face, just make sure it’s on the side that already got a mark,” she grunted, and Buck felt a little wounded with her lack of confidence in him. He kept moving though, sauntering the rest of the way to his boss. 

“So Bobby, I got to ask, what’s the deal with that book?” He asked, standing behind him and trying to get a peek at what was inside. 

The book immediately shut, and his captain's posture tightened. “It’s none of your business.”

“I know it’s a list of people you saved, all right?” He confessed because he’d already looked in the book once when Bobby had left the station to go pick up groceries one day. He’d left it lying on the counter. Why wouldn’t Buck sneak a peek? “Right now, there are 46 names in it, but space for 148. Why that number?”

“You read my book?” Bobby asked with a tone that was less than friendly. His captain’s head snapped in his direction, and Buck immediately tensed. 

“I mean, I-I-I peaked once or twi-” Bobby cut him off by grabbing his shirt and shoving him up against the wall. 

“Don’t you ever do that again!” He yelled, giving him the sort of eye contact that would make even the toughest people submit. 

He let him go, then stormed down the stairs and Buck was left reeling as to what the fuck just happened. Out of everything he thought might have happened with that conversation, that wasn’t it. He swallowed thickly, trying to clear whatever lump had gathered in his throat. When he looked at Hen, she responded with a simple shrug; in her defense, she had warned him. 

Before he had too much time to think about it and stew over it, the alarm bells sounded, and they were sent out on a call. 

***

Whatever Buck had expected when they arrived at the scene, it wasn’t a plane halfway submerged, with the engines underwater yet somehow on fire. 

For a second, he froze. His mind went offline and all he could think about was the fact that they were going to have to do a water rescue and that he was going to see people who were struggling to swim, or dead in the water, or drowning. 

“Come on, Buck let's go,” Bobby said, pushing him towards the lifeboat. 

Focus, Buck. You’ve got to focus. 

He shoved it aside, turning off all of his senses and purely running on instinct so that he could walk past the bodies that were face down in the water. Did they die on impact? Or did they just not make it to shore?

They get to the plane, his team in charge of getting out the remaining passengers that were stuck. 

He steadied his breath, examining the scene. There were a boy and his mom that needed their attention first. His mom was pinned, and they couldn’t get the leverage that they needed in order to get her out of her seat. So, Buck took the boy to one of the lifeboats and tried to ignore the fact that the water was wading higher, and higher, flooding his boots and making his pants stick to his legs. 

He went through SEALs training, or most of it, which included water rescues, so he tried to put as much focus as he had into remembering that. 

Hen was in the back of the plane trying to get a couple out of the bathroom, and Buck sprung into action, throwing Hen part of his rope to attach to the cart that was blocking the door, and then attached the other end to one of the life rafts. 

Before he knew it, the cart was flying in his direction and almost took him out. He landed on his chest, taking in a mouth full of seawater. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, pushed himself up, and carried on. 

He helped Hen get the two out and safely into life rafts, sending Hen with them as Bobby instructed them to go. Buck wasn’t about to leave his captain, though, and he waded back into the plane. 

“I told you to leave, Buck!” Bobby yelled at him when Buck reached where his Captain was trying to free the mom of the boy he’d helped earlier. 

“You know I’m a terrible listener!” He yelled back. “You gotta take this and attach it, trust me it works!” 

Buck handed Bobby the rope that he and Hen used to move the cart, then suddenly Buck was being pulled out of the plane and dragged underwater by the next swell. 

The thing about drowning is that you never really forget what it feels like. There’s a lack of oxygen, a need to breathe, and not being able to. The waves pull you under, and shove you deeper, and deeper until it feels like it’s never going to end. 

Buck did somersaults in the water, trying to figure out which direction was up and which was down as the current pulled him in any direction it pleased. The saltwater burned his nose and throat. He didn’t even manage to get a good breath in before he was pulled under, so his lungs screamed for him to take a breath. He knew better than most that if he gave in, if he took that breath, then things would be worse than if he didn’t. If he just breathed in water--

Before he could finish the thought, he surfaced. He took in a deep breath, sputtering for a moment, before realizing that he was at least 50 yards from the plane and it was sinking faster and faster and--

“Bobby!” He screamed, panicking. He had his boots and clothes on and he felt so weighed down, that it was going to be impossible for him to make it to the plane before it went under completely. 

He’d much rather drown again than have to even think about his captain drowning. When he was six, it was bad. When he was going out for the SEALs, it was worse. Whatever the fuck just happened was terrible, but he’d rather relive it all again than have to think about someone he loves taking in that breath of water, their lungs filling with it. He’d rather be hit by a tsunami than think about his captain stuck in the plane as it sinks to the bottom of the ocean. 

He started swimming as quickly as he could towards the plane, thinking that maybe if he was fast enough, if he tried hard enough, then maybe--

Just as he started towards the plane, one of the air rescue teams had pulled two bodies out of the plane. One was Bobby, and the other was the woman he was trying to rescue. 

Buck felt like he could breathe again, relief coursing through his veins. He let out a nervous laugh as he was heaved into one of the lifeboats by another crew. They took him back to land and he couldn’t have been more thankful than to be out of the water. 

***

Abby called while they were still on scene. Buck was hanging in there, but he yearned to be out of his wet clothes. 

Their conversation was short, as they were both very aware of the gravity of the situation. She had asked him to find someone, looking for a survivor. He sighed, looking at the number of people that were in body bags, versus the amount of survivors that were huddled under tents as they were triaged, crews taking the highest priorities to the hospitals first. 

He scanned the area before his eyes landed on a woman with a clipboard whom he presumed had a list of who survived and who didn’t.

“52 survivors, that’s pretty good right?” He questions as he approaches her. “This is my-my first plane crash.”

“Mine too, yeah,” she replied, looking up from her list to glance at him. “Usually If there's one fatality it’s-its like a 4% survival rate.”

God, a statistic like that was morbid. He couldn’t help but cringe at the thought. The crash itself was probably going to make him a little more apprehensive the next time he goes to buy a plane ticket, but he supposed that he would likely go through the statistics of a plane actually crashing too, and weigh his odds. 

“I wasn’t expecting some of the fatalities to be... you know, in one piece,” he told her as a means of covering up the awkward silence he’d put her through, and out of all the things he could have said, it couldn’t get worse, right? Maybe he just shouldn't open his mouth-- “Uh, I guess that makes identifying the casualties a lot easier— not that it’s easy.” Why was he talking to her again? God, this was getting embarrassing. “Uh- can I- can I check your list? Uh see-see a name, um... Dale Marks?

“I think I remember that name...” She said and her voice almost sounded hopeful. She scanned the list, flipping through the pages before whatever hope she might have had drained from her face. “I think that name is on the other list.”

“Ah.. alright, um thank you.”

What was he going to tell Abby? How was he going to tell her? He knew what it was like to lose someone. He’s heard someone’s last words before. His mind whipped through what happened to Devon, all of the trauma from that bubbling to the surface. 

He felt the rocks being added to his pockets and the pressure in his chest. He took as deep of a breath as he could, then just decided to call her. 

He broke the news to her as softly as he could. He wanted to see her face, to be able to gauge what she was feeling, and he wanted so badly, despite everything that he was feeling towards the crash, to do anything that he could to make her feel better. 

“I’m sorry, Abby. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear,” he said, pursing his lips together. 

The line went dead as she hung up on him.

He heaved a heavy sigh, shoving down any and all emotions he felt. It wasn’t the time or place to be feeling feelings. He had a job to do, and he could sort everything out later. 

***

His heart thrummed aggressively in his chest. He thought that after driving home, eating a shit ton of carbs, and taking a shower that he would be too tired to think about things. He thought that he would be too tired to feel things. 

There were a plethora of anxieties that coursed through his brain, and he couldn’t really quite pinpoint what he was upset about or if he was really upset about anything in particular. So he laid there, for a while, trying to make sense of his thoughts. 

The first thing he knew was that it was okay for him to be upset about the plane crash. The things that he had seen during his shift were terrifying. It dredged up a whole lot of something that he had buried deep down. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if the air rescue team hadn’t gotten to Bobby in time. Would any of his training from the SEALs have kicked in? The water training that they went through was intense, he had to be able to hold his breath for long periods of time. They had to swim with his hands and feet bound or stay in freezing cold water for what felt like an eternity. 

Would he have been able to shove all of his emotions aside in order to dive down to get his captain?

He played through different scenarios. Logically, he knew he was anywhere from 50 to 100 yards away from the plane when he surfaced. He’d been on the swim team in high school and he knew that he could probably bridge that distance in about a minute or so. Would he have been able to get into the plane if he reached it? Would he have been able to get out of the plane once he was in? 

Before long, his eyelids were too heavy to keep open. His heart still thrummed in his chest, but he couldn’t fight off sleep any longer. 

The nightmares that evening had him twisting and turning in his sheets, sputtering for breath, and really, really wishing that he lived alone. 

***

They had a few days off before having to go back to work, but Buck picked up overtime. He didn’t want to sit in his room, doing nothing, while his mind paced over all of the what if’s. He was tired, and his body was sore, but he needed to push through and work. By the time his rotation came around, Hen showed up to work, but Bobby was nowhere to be seen. 

“I’ll text him,” he said to Hen, pulling out his phone. 

Had Buck missed something the last time they got off shift? He knew that sometimes dry drowning went undetected what if he--

“We’re going to his apartment,” Hen said, looking at Buck. “I’ll have dispatch take us out of service.”

“Okay,” he replied with a nod, trying his best to keep his thoughts from spiraling. 

The car ride to his captain's apartment was quiet. Buck obsessively checked his phone and tried calling his captain time and time again. Each time, it rang until it hit voicemail and Buck would hang up. 

They got out of the car and Buck followed Hen’s lead. “Has he ever been MIA like this before?” He asked as they reached his door. 

Hen knocked a few times and shook her head. “No. Honestly, I don’t, I don’t know much about his story before he took over the house. Just that he, uh... he’s in recovery.”

In recovery? How the hell had he not known? He felt like this team was his family, and yet somehow he knew so little about them. That was a rabbit hole he was probably going to return to and go down later. 

Right now, it wasn’t about him though. It was about Bobby and making sure that Bobby was okay. So he pulled out his phone and he called him again. “Do you hear that?” He said, looking at Hen. “I’m going to kick down the door.”

“No, you’re not,” Hen rolled her eyes as he was about to put his body weight into it. She pulled out her keys and found which one opened Bobby’s door. “We gave each other these, just in case one of us didn’t make it home one night.”

Buck was... Buck was a little hurt that they relied on each other like that, yet he had no one at the house or in life in general who relied on him in the same way. Should he give someone a key to his place? Was that necessary? He swallowed down his thoughts as Hen opened the door. 

They walked into his apartment which was eerily empty. There were no pictures up on the walls, the table was set for four, and it was so meticulously clean that it honestly looked like no one lived there. 

When Buck reached the living area, he turned and saw Bobby lying face down in his bed, and his heart clenched in his chest. He surveyed the room, trying not to panic, and his eyes laid on a drained bottle of whiskey, and his heart dropped. 

Was Buck so caught up in all of his own feelings that he didn’t notice a member of his team was hurting? Could he have known? This wasn’t the first time Buck had seen someone drink their feelings away. He swallowed down the knot in his throat and walked a few paces to his captain's bedside, first making sure that he was breathing before looking at Hen. “Let's get him in the shower.” 

He felt like he’d somehow failed him by not noticing. The guy was in recovery, which meant that he didn’t want things to be like this. Bobby was trying harder than his dad ever had, and that had to mean something, right? But here they were, dousing him with cold shower water to wake him up, and Buck couldn’t help but feel the same type of disappointment he’d felt for his dad so many times before. 

He tried his best to shove it all aside. Bobby wasn’t his dad, and he knew that. Bobby was kind. He held Buck to reasonable standards. He knew Buck was flawed, yet he didn’t seem to hold any kind of grudge for it. Bobby was more than his dad ever could be to him. 

Hen stood beside Buck and gave him a squeeze like she knew what was going through his head. She didn’t say anything, or press, she just let him be with his thoughts and guided him out of the bathroom to give Bobby some time to sober up a little. 

They went into the kitchen, and Hen, bless her soul, made Bobby a cup of tea while they waited. 

“It’s okay to be upset,” she told him quietly. 

“I’m fine,” he deflected, shrugging. Thankfully, she dropped it. 

When Bobby came out of his room, Hen ushered him over to the couch and gestured for him to sit before she handed him his cup of tea.

“How long has it been?” Buck asked, breaking whatever awkward, silent tension there was in the room. 

“546 days,” Bobby replied, his face scrunching like the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “45 and 1/2 if we’re being picky. Days. 18 months.”

Fuck, that was a long time. Longer than his dad ever made it. It always seemed like his dad would get his one month chip, then figure that meant that he was okay to drink, in control, and started all over again. 

“That crash was hardcore,” Buck said, moving to sit next to Bobby. 

“Yup,” Bobby nodded, and Buck sat, trying his hardest to read his expression. 

“We all have our breaking point,” Hen said softly, giving his knee a squeeze. She glanced up at the table, and then back to Bobby like she was trying to find some other talking point than the crash. “Who were you cooking dinner for? There are four plates set.”

“I don’t know I was drunk.” Long pause. “I am gonna be fine. This is a one-time thing, I promise, okay? I’m good, I’m sorry I put you guys through this.”

The thing is, Bobby clearly wasn’t good. He’d been sober for 18 months and that call did something to him. Was it something to do with the mom and her son? Or something else entirely? Was there something that he missed while they were out on the call?

“You know why redwoods can grow so high?” Hen asked, breaking Buck’s train of thought again. “They move and bend with the wind. If you stay rigid, eventually you’ll break.”

“You calling me uptight?” Bobby asked, glancing over at Buck. “She’s calling me uptight isn’t she?” 

Buck knows what he’s doing because he feels like he invented it. Deflection is the easiest way to push people out. It’s the easiest way to push your own feelings aside and resort to some sort of humor, or to bring the attention off yourself. He gets it. He does. He just doesn’t like that his captain is using his own tactics against him. He doesn’t like that his captain is so broken up inside that he’s trying to push them away. He tries to force a smile, but it doesn’t work. 

“Maybe ask for help once and a while?” Buck says, trying to keep it as light as possible. Honestly, it’s the most hypocritical thing that’s come out of his mouth in months, but he knows that sometimes you have to be pushed to ask for help in order to ask for it, and no one has really pushed him to ask, so he hasn’t. He doesn’t want to. 

“Help,” Bobby says in a broken tone. Buck scoots a little closer as Bobby puts his head in his hands, and notices that Hen does the same. They wrap their captain in a hug, letting him let all of the hurt and the sadness and the frustration drip out of him. “I’m sorry you guys,” he said between sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hen whispered. 

If Buck had any other method of taking away his pain, he would. He’d even take on his pain if it meant that Bobby didn’t feel like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a heavy chapter, but I promise it'll get a little bit lighter. I love reading each and every one of your comments! I might have the next chapter up closer to Wednesday, but I make no promises. I'm pretty far ahead with what I have typed out and as long as I think I can keep 3-4 chapters ahead I'll post it! 
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr!](https://www.ineedapuppyandsomevodka.tumblr.com).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for this chapter: There's a dream about drowning in the first paragraph.

There was something holding his legs together, pinning him down so he couldn’t make it to the surface of the water. His chest hurt from the lack of oxygen, and his brain begged him to breathe. He fumbled around, trying to get his legs unstuck from whatever they were wrapped in. He could see the surface of the water, he just needed enough leverage to get himself up. He rolled himself over to try and free his feet, and he felt like he was in freefall--

“Ouch,” he gasped, his ass hitting the floor and his lungs filling with air. “Fuck,” he reeled, trying to grasp at reality. 

He’d been having nightmares recently, but none like that, none that made him feel so incredibly close to death. He grabbed at his phone and turned the flashlight on, seeing that his legs were tangled in his sheets, not a rope tying him down. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, freed his feet, then looked at the time on his phone. 3:52. 

His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment he debated going back to sleep, thinking that maybe if he got an hour more of sleep, then he would be better suited for work the next day. 

He shook his head, pushing himself up onto his feet. He changed into basketball shorts and a t-shirt and laced up his running shoes. A run would probably suit him better and leave him feeling less exhausted. 

His roommates were still awake downstairs. They were playing the latest video game and eating whatever junk food was laying around the house. Buck sighed and rolled his eyes, he needed to find somewhere else to live. 

He downed a glass of water in the kitchen before he headed out the door, running until the sun came up. He pushed himself harder and faster, putting his lungs under a different kind of stress. It seemed to help push away whatever feelings he had about the nightmare or the subsequent feelings he had about drowning. He wanted so badly just to shake those feelings away. 

He got to thinking about Bobby on his run. He wondered if Bobby was hanging in there okay. It had only been a few days since they found him in his apartment, and he wasn’t sure how he was doing. He wanted to be there for him, but Hen encouraged Buck to give him some space to process everything, so that’s what Buck did. 

While it was always with the best intentions, Buck understood that he could be a lot sometimes, so he was following Hen’s lead on this one. 

Buck wanted to be reliable. He wanted to be there for people, and show up for them, and give them his undying love and support. He’d been like that since he was a kid, but slowly, as he’s gotten older, he’s realized that not a lot of people appreciate that quality. 

He would do anything anyone asked him to do because it felt nice to be thought of and nice to be needed. He just wanted to be important to someone. 

The next time he’d looked at his phone it was time for him to head back, hit the shower, and head into work. 

***

They’d run some weird calls that day, everything ranging from drunk and disorderly that needed to be transported to the hospital, to a jumper, to an arranged marriage where the dance floor fell through a couple of stories, leaving the wedding party scattered under debris. There were a few fatalities, but they were able to successfully recover the bride and the groom. 

“Can you imagine committing to someone you don’t even know?” Buck asked Hen when they were heading back to the rig. 

“Does anybody really know anybody?” Hen responded. 

Buck floundered for a little bit. He got into the rig and let what she had said really sink in. Did anyone really know anybody? Did he know Hen? 

He was sent into a spiral of thoughts, wondering if people thought that about him. Buck wasn’t even really sure that he knew who he was. Did other people feel that way? What did he really know about everyone else, other than what they had shared about their personal lives? 

He supposed that maybe Hen was just making an off-handed comment about Bobby because that was entirely possible. That, and Chim was still in the hospital recovering, which probably didn’t help matters very much. 

What did he know about his crew? Could he even really call them family?

***  
Buck came home from work the next day to find his roommates watching a football game. They briefly said hello, and Buck sort of waved but kept walking into the kitchen to find something to eat. 

There were red solo cups and pizza boxes scattered all over the kitchen counter, with nothing left in them. Great. 

He checked the fridge and grabbed one of the protein shakes he’d bought for himself off the shelf and settled for that. Bobby had made them breakfast before they were off shift, so he wasn’t starving, but he still felt kind of hungry. 

He leaned against the counter and pulled out his phone to see a text from Abby. 

It was a missing person’s poster for her mom, and his stomach dropped, immediately wanting to step in to help.

So he called her. She didn’t have to pick up if she didn't want to, but he was thankful when she did. It gave him something to do other than sit in his room and think, or work himself out until he was dead tired. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“Um, no, I’m not, I’m kind of having a nervous breakdown,” she answered, and Buck understood. 

“Um... How long has she been gone?” He asked, not quite knowing what to say. 

“I don’t know, maybe like 9 hours or something. She was gone when I woke up,” Abby told him, and he could hear that she was crying. He wanted to do anything in his power to help her and to make that pain go away. “So I called, you know, I’ve called the police, I’ve called the hospitals, the shelters... My brother’s in Vegas. He’s gonna try and get a flight back.”

“Look, I’m-I’m gonna come over.” He quickly decided. He was dog ass tired after getting off a 48, but he wanted to help. He wasn’t sure he would be able to sleep if he stayed at home when there was something that he could be doing. “We’ll uh, we’ll find your mom and then we can go back to never seeing each other again, okay?” 

“Thanks,” she responded. 

So, before he could stew on it any longer, he grabbed his jacket and his protein shake and he headed back out the door. 

***

By the time that Buck shows up at Abby’s house, he’s thrumming with anxiety. His mind is going about 500 miles a minute, and he’s not sure how to apply the emergency brake without making a goddamn fool out of himself. He’s here. He wants to help Abby, but he’s not sure that he should be here. Was it weird? Was it inappropriate? Was he stepping over a line here? 

He was probably overthinking it. Right? 

He sighed at himself, trying to steal any look of panic that may or may not be on his face, then he raised his arm, and knocked. 

Wait what if this wasn’t her apartment? Fuck, he probably should have double-checked. God, he was such an idiot sometimes. He pulled out his phone and looked at the address again, making sure that he was in the right place. Okay, phew. He slipped his phone back in his pocket and clapped his hands together just as--

“Abby?” He asked, nervously smiling as someone opened the door. She wasn’t what he was expecting, but she didn’t look like a serial killer, so that was a step in the right direction. She had a knowing smile on her face--

Someone else pushed the door open a little further, and he met eyes with her, Abby. His smile grows, because this may be the first time they’re meeting, but he feels like he knows her. He’s... He’s taken aback. She’s older, sure, but that has never really stopped Buck before. He feels like he has some sort of emotional connection with her. Sure they text a little, but they call back and forth too. He knows the second he lays eyes on her that he’s done with the casual hookups. 

“Hi, Buck,” she says and her voice is so familiar and warm.

“So what do we know so far?” He asked, his mind quickly catching up with the fact that he was here to help her, not to flirt with her. 

“Come in. Come... yeah, come in. Thanks,” she invites him in. Things were a little awkward, sure, but he was okay with it. It’s been a while since he’s felt these kinds of nerves and it's exciting and scary all at the same time. 

He steps into her apartment, past the gal who had opened, the door, and followed after Abby. 

“I’m Carla by the way.” the gal said, and Buck flashed her one of his signature smiles. Under different circumstances, he probably would have said more to her, but he was so caught up with his nerves that he really didn’t know what to say. 

“So we’re here,” Abby said, showing Buck the map that she had printed out and had written notes on. “I made assumptions based on her being on foot, because if she is on a bus, or in a taxi, then... she could have gotten much further”

“No, this is good. This is really impressive,” he said as he looks everything over, taking in as much information as he could. “What do you figure, like two miles an hour walking pace?”

“Three. Patricia is an annoyingly fast walker,” Carla added. 

“Yeah,” Abby replied, seeming like she had already taken that into consideration. 

“Even if she’s been gone for nine hours, she couldn’t have been walking the entire time,” Buck hummed, letting his instinct kick out whatever nerves he was feeling because, this, helping people? This is what he was good at. He was good at letting his feelings go and making sure that everyone was taken care of. 

“I know, that’s what I was thinking,” Abby said, tracing her fingers along the map. “So I figure maybe 15 to 20-mile range, but then that seems too far, so I brought it down to 12. But in any direction, so we would have just under 527 square miles to check.” 

He listened to her and couldn’t help but think about how smart and intelligent she was. She clearly worked well in crisis, and Buck hadn’t realized it was something he was wildly attracted to until now. 

“But, I mean, literally, she could be anywhere,” Abby continued. “I-- I don't know what to do. I’m so much better when it’s somebody else’s emergency.”

“No one is good when it’s personal,” he said, trying to offer some sort of encouragement. “We got this, okay? We are going to find your mom. Promise.”

“Okay, how are we gonna do it?” She asked, looking at Buck hopefully. 

“One mile at a time,” he said, grabbing his car keys and gesturing towards the door. “Let's go find her.” 

***

They end up driving all over LA together, driving down any and every street that they thought might lead to something. Buck realizes quickly that he’s comfortable with her, and it makes him feel a little uneasy. He knows that he trusts too easily, and it’s gotten him hurt in the past. It has put him in unhealthy relationships, which led to him quitting trying for any sort of relationship in exchange for quick hookups. 

Sure, a relationship would be great, and he’d love to be in one with Abby because it’s been a while where he’s felt this at ease with someone, but he’s also not completely worried about getting into one right now. 

He’s got trust issues. Trust issues he wasn’t going to worry about right now because Abby is what is important, and finding her mom is even more so. 

To take his mind off things, he calls Athena to ask for help. He still didn’t trust her completely, but he was building something there. He was tentative in any and all interactions with her. 

“Kind of a bummer we had to meet under these circumstances,” Abby says as she looks out her window. “I mean especially with our ‘only on the phone’ plan.”  
“Worst first date ever right?” He says jokingly but quickly regrets opening his mouth. 

“I’ve probably had worse?” She surprisingly replies, and his eyebrows shoot up. 

“Like what?” 

“Well, I mean, to be honest, it’s a little fuzzy,” Abby says almost like she's uncomfortable talking about it. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out on a date.”

“How long? A Few weeks?” He asks, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Try more like almost a year.”

“What?” He asked in complete and utter disbelief, and maybe it showed how out of depth he was. Maybe it showed all of his insecurities and his inability to be alone. “I mean, that’s not possible. Who do you have sex with?”

Instead of a reply, Abby just laughs a little awkwardly, her face turning bright red.   
“You’ve not had sex in almost a year?!”

“No, I haven’t had sex in-in-in a year.” 

For a moment, Buck is worried that he’s overstepped, but Abby’s body language is open and she seems like she’s more comfortable and he doesn’t want to stop. 

“Not even with yourself?” He asks. 

“...probably?” She responds, immediately bringing a hand to her face in regret. “Oh my god, I didn't say that. Although I am more of a, you know, human contact, you know, touch skin kind of person. It’s just really hard to feel sexy with your mom dying in the dining room.”

While they were driving, the radio that Buck had in his car went off with a dispatch notification to a call that was blocks from where they were. It peaked his attention, but a team had already been dispatched and they were on a mission to find Abby’s mom. Abby, however, insisted, and that's how they ended up in someone's backyard with their daughter caught on an inflatable and someone... drowned. 

Buck swallows down the lump that grows in his throat. Now is not the time to think about drowning or to worry about the guy who’s lifeless in the pool. There’s a little girl who needs help, and Buck has to do everything he can to make sure that she's okay. 

So, he panics a little, and then he overthinks it. 

“What are you doing?” Abby asks with her eyebrows raised. 

Buck picks up the orca inflatable toy that's lying in the grass and inches closer to the pool. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna ride this thing out and scoop her up.” Now that he says it out loud, sure it sounds a little stupid, and there's a good chance that he could end up in the water but--

“No, you’re not! Did you get that from the macho handbook? That’s insane!” Abby says, stunned. 

“Yeah, there’s no way that book actually exists,” he grunts because he’s done enough pop culture research to know when Chim is messing with him and when he’s actually talking about something that Buck doesn’t know about. This feels a lot like Abby messing with him because the macho handbook sounds fake as fuck. 

“Actually, give me your knife,” Abby says and reaches her hand out. Buck looks at her like she has three heads. “You have a knife, right? You’re a fireman.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he says and starts digging through his pockets. 

“Quick, quick, quick,” she says, then starts to unroll the garden hose. 

She takes his knife and cuts off the metal bits, which is smart, really smart, Buck thinks. The rubber itself won't conduct electricity, and with the power lines in the water, they want to avoid getting shocked. The metal on the ends would only aid in that. 

Within a minute, they have the girl back on dry land, and the fire department shows up to take over not long after. That’s their cue to head out, and Buck takes Abby’s hand to lead her back to the car. He looks at her hand for a moment, realizing that they’re not shaking. He’s a little jealous, honestly. His first call that he ran like that had him wired with adrenaline. She’s relaxed, calm, cool, and collected. 

“What?” She asked. 

He didn’t have an answer for her. How was he supposed to tell her? It wasn’t a bad thing that she wasn’t shaking. It was just impressive. He just shook his head, leading her out to the street. 

“That was so exhilarating. I mean, I’m usually miles away on the other end of a phone. You get to do that every day. Such a high.” Abby smiles. 

“Well, you were really good,” he smiles back, giving her hand a squeeze. 

“Thanks,” she responds and gives him a look that says despite the high of the call, her mind is circling back to her mom. She’s worried and anxious, and Buck wants to do anything he can to wipe those features off her face. 

“I know,” he says quietly, “let’s go find her.”

“Yeah,” 

***

When they were back on the road, a certain type of quiet overtook the car that made Buck uneasy. Sure, the silence wasn’t a bad thing, but his mind wandered too much when things got quiet. He wasn’t totally sure he registered that the man who was in the pool had been electrocuted and hadn’t just drowned, but he saw his lifeless body in the water and that’s what his mind kept going back to. He wanted to throw up. 

“So, um, you asked, what I was looking at before, right?” Buck asks, just trying to get out of his own head. “When we- when we high-fived? It was your hands. See in an emergency situation, the body produces adrenaline. Uh, keeps your mind focused, Dulls any pain, makes you super strong. It’s a normal human response. My first few calls, I was shaking like crazy for an hour after. Your hands, they never shook. I mean, you were like a full-on Jedi.”

“Well, I do have some experience with stress,” she says and looks out the window. 

“Sure,” he nods, because she's a dispatcher, who's taking care of her sick mother, of course, she knows. He’s not quite sure how to read her response, either, and he doesn't want to push it. She must sense it. 

“But also, I feel calm around you,” she added confidently, which eased some of Buck’s stress. 

Before long, Athena called Buck with a lead on Abby’s mom. She had been admitted to a hospital, so Buck changed course and headed that way. 

When they got to the hospital, Buck watched as Abby reunited with her mom. She looked so relieved to have her mother in her arms again, and there’s some sort of switch that goes off in his head that decides that he’s going to do whatever it is that he can from this moment forward to help both Abby and her mom. 

He gets them both home after her mom is checked out of the hospital and kind of lingers awkwardly in the background. He doesn’t feel it’s his place to step in and do anything, but he still wants to be around for support. 

“Is that Tommy?” Patricia, Abby’s mom asks, looking at Buck.

He can’t help but blush. He’s assuming that Tommy is one of Abby’s exes, and he's really not upset or put off that her mom insinuates he might be him. 

Abby looks embarrassed, but Buck steps forward to introduce himself. He gives Patricia his award-winning smile and shakes her hand. “I’m Buck,” he tells her. 

“Be kind to her,” Patricia says, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go. He wants to promise her that he will, that he’ll treat her right, but he doesn’t. He’s not entirely sure she’ll remember him anyway. 

He and Abby head to the kitchen once Patricia is settled, and Buck leans into the counter after he spins around to look at her. He can tell that things have reached the point of slightly awkward, and he’s never really sure how to react or what to say, and he usually says something stupid like--

“So, that is the most amount of time I have ever spent with a woman I want to have sex with, without actually having sex with her,” is what comes out of his mouth. Not exactly what he wanted to say, but he goes with it. 

“My mom?” Abby asks, eyebrows raised. 

“It’s that nightdress,” shut up, shut up, shut up, “it's just so hot.” 

There are times where Buck really regrets ever opening his mouth, and this is definitely one of them. Someone might as well start digging his grave now, there’s no way he can come back from this depth of embarrassment. 

“Well, I guess we should probably just...” Abby starts, rolling her tongue between her teeth. “Go back to being phone buddies again.”

“Why?” Buck asks because out of everything he thought that she was going to say, he didn’t think it was going to be that. He liked hanging out with her. He had a good time with her today. It’s the first time in a very long time that he’s hung out with someone that wasn’t a hookup, and wasn’t from the firehouse. 

“Because, I like hanging out with you, too, and I think that if we continue to hang out, we will... mistakes will be made.” She tells him, and he’s not quite sure how he feels. “But I do want to say, thank you so much for today, and not just for what you did for my mom and me, which was amazing. But you really gave me back a piece of myself. You’re the first person in a long time to show me that I exist outside of this house and away from this hospital bed and the frustration. So, thanks.”

“Well, then, you’re very welcome,” Buck says, but the hurt and the rejection is clear in his voice. His shoulders hunch a little bit, he thought everything that he did today meant just a little more than what Abby thought it was. He thought he’d done good, and that maybe she’d want something a little more. He could feel the rocks building up in his pockets, but he tries to school his expression. “Really.” 

She can clearly see the change in Buck's demeanor and she pulls him into a tight hug, for which Buck is grateful. He hugs her back. He cares about her and while this isn’t how he pictured their first interaction going, it’s better than nothing. Still, though, he’s not really into feeling feelings, and this feels a lot like feelings he really doesn’t want to feel, which makes things all the more complicated. 

“And no matter what you are feeling right now...” Abby says when they pull away. “Don't go have sex with some girl on tinder. You were thinking about it.” 

“I’ll call you,” he replies, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Okay.”

***

Buck went home that night not quite sure how to feel. 

He walked up the stairs to his bedroom and flopped in bed with an unapologetic sigh. She asked him not to go on Tinder and go have sex with some girl. What was he supposed to make of that? Were those clear boundaries that she was into him? Was this some sort of a test to see if he would be faithful? 

He scrubbed a hand over his face, thinking it through. If they were boundaries she was setting for what could be a relationship for them, then Buck could do that. He was loyal, he wanted to be there for her, and he knows that he can be there for her. 

She listens to him, which is huge. He feels heard when he’s around her, and that’s not something he gets from people often. She doesn’t want to make mistakes with him, and maybe that’s a good thing. 

Maybe she wants this to be a relationship and she’s just not quite ready. He could work with that. 

For the first time in a long time, Buck is hopeful about where he stands in a relationship. 

***

“It is a beautiful day, Henrietta, my love,” Buck says as he walks into the fire station the following day, trying to give Hen a hug. He had a pep in his step that he felt like he only had after sleeping with someone, and he hadn’t. It was gratifying. 

“Call me Henrietta again, you’re going over the balcony,” She says, and despite moving away from him, there is no heat behind her words. 

“Okay, then, Bobby,” Buck grins. “Oh captain, my handsome captain.”

“What are you, high?” Bobby asks, furrowing his brows at Buck. 

“No, I'm not high,” he replies, a grin plastered on his face. “I met a woman. Two, actually, I met a woman and her mother. And I didnt have sex with either of them.” 

Hen and Bobby look very amused for a fraction of a second before they make eye contact with each other, then they share a glare. 

“Ooh, why is it so cold in here?” He asks with eyebrows raised. 

Before either of them could answer, the bells rang out and they rushed off to a call. 

***

Buck only worked a 12-hour shift that day, and by the time he was back to his place, showered and in bed, he was still thrumming with adrenaline or anxiety or something. He couldn’t help but think of Abby, and his mind milled over some of the conversations that they had while they were together. 

He decided that he needed to know what Abby meant by “mistakes will be made,” so he calls her before he can think too much about it. Because he wants to talk to her, and he wants to hear her voice. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” He asks when she answers. 

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Did you want to have sex with me?” He questions, plain and simple. 

“What?” He can hear the surprise in her voice, she’s taken aback. Maybe he should have worded it differently, but it’s too late now. 

“Like, you might have made a mistake, too, right?”

“Um, yeah. I mean... yeah definitely. And you know you’re muscly and kind and... you’re fun. Yeah.”

“And you said we can... only talk on the phone, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you in bed? I’m in bed.” 

“Yeah, I’m in bed.”

“What are you wearing?” He asks, biting his lip because maybe this isn’t exactly what she meant, but he was sure as hell going to give it a try. There was a long pause. He’d made her uncomfortable, hadn’t he? Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he was taking things too far. Maybe she didn’t want a relationship from him--

“I don’t think this is exactly the spirit of what I meant.” She finally says, breaking Buck out of his train of thought. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He bites his lip.

“No.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there's a lot about this episode that was just... icky? I don't know how else to explain it. There are things that Abby says (like the whole tinder comment) that I think cross a line? I don't know. She clearly leads him on and everything. Anyway, I love seeing your guys' comments and everything. Thanks so much for keeping up with the story this far and I can't wait for Eddie.


	6. Chapter 6

Buck isn’t the best at relationships, and he figures that’s probably part of the reason why he stuck to sleeping around for so long. 

When he was in high school he had a girlfriend who, like a lot of other people in his life, made it very clear what his faults were. He dwells on them from time to time, knowing that whatever made him a boyfriend back then was probably going to make him a bad boyfriend now, and that scared the hell out of him.

He knew he wasn’t good at communicating, not anymore anyway. He thinks there might have been a time where he probably felt that he could openly communicate with someone, likely his sister, but he’s not entirely sure. When he was a kid, it often felt like he was being forced to push his emotions aside because his parents didn’t want to hear about them. They didn’t like him when he was too sad, they didn’t like him when he was too happy, so he soon learned that if he was quiet and cautious with how he spoke and what he spoke, then his parents would tolerate him. 

The relationships he had to look up to while he was growing up weren’t the best. His parents had an interesting relationship. To him, it seemed that they were only together because they didn’t want to get a divorce. They were stubborn like that. They would fight, yell, scream, and frequently one would leave for a few days to weeks at a time. Buck was often stuck in the crossfire. 

He spent a lot of time at one of his friends' houses growing up, and that’s where he realized that his parents' relationship wasn’t normal. There was hardly any fighting at Sawyer’s house. His parents were... calm. They never told them to shut up, or that they were being too annoying, or that they were going to be sent off to boarding school. Sawyer's parents weren’t like Buck’s parents at all. 

But, Sawyer's parents were gay. So, the safety that he felt in that household was short-lived when Buck’s dad found out. The thing was, Maddie used to come and pick him up when she was headed home from her friend's house, so Buck’s parents never interacted with Sawyers, until Maddie went off to college. 

Buck got pretty closed off after that. He was only about nine when she left, and the only person in his life who took the time to make him feel _safe_ at home had left him, and didn’t really look back. The only other consistency in his life, Sawyer’s family had been forcibly removed from his life because of his dad. His dad even went as far as making sure that Buck got enrolled in a different school the next year so that Buck couldn’t be tempted to talk to Sawyer or his family. 

So healthy relationships? Buck didn’t really know them. He knew from observing how other people interacted with their significant others what he did and didn’t want in a relationship.

He wanted to be comfortable enough with that person to be open with them, and Buck wasn’t open with very many people. He felt like he had different sides to him with different people, things he was comfortable showing others and things he wasn’t. No matter who he was around, though, he tried to be a good listener. He knew he was too good at opening his mouth at the wrong time and that often got him in trouble, but he was working on it. 

He was also working on being someone that people could count on, which was how he was trying to build his relationship with Abby. She needed someone to be there for her, so he was going to be that person. 

So, with Valentine’s Day coming up, he’s really not sure what he’s going to do. He hates Valentine’s day, and he tells Bobby as such. 

“God, I hate Valentine's Day. Everywhere you look it’s perfume ads, candy ads, jewelry ads. It’s a fake holiday designed by women to make guys feel guilty and go into debt,” he grunts as he steps under a shower of water coming from a fire hydrant that had been hit by at least a couple of cars in an accident that shut down the whole road.

“You think it’s just women who run the companies that are tryna sell you those things?” Bobby asks, his tone light and conversational. 

“Well They're at least in on it,” Buck rolls his eyes. 

“Well, I know plenty of women who don’t like Valentine’s Day and plenty of guys who love it,” Bobby replies. 

“You?”

“Yeah. Here and there I’ve been known since I was about 8 years old to like Valentine’s Day. And after I met my wife, I’ll tell you what, you have someone to share it with it could be pretty great” (they’re fixing a fire hydrant that’s been hit by a floral truck and is spewing water everywhere)

“You must miss her a lot on Valentine’s Day.”

“Miss her every day, Buck. Miss her every day.”

***

When Buck sent Abby an invite to Chimney’s welcome back party, he never thought that she would actually show up. He understood that she was really busy with work and with her mom, and he was trying his best to give her the space that she needed while still being supportive. He wanted to make an effort for her because she seemed worth it. He was trying his best to be patient. 

So, when she actually showed, he was thrilled. He had a smile plastered on his face because he finally got to show her off to the members of the 118. He finally got to prove that she was real. 

“Everyone, this is Abby Clark. She is LA’s fiercest 9-1-1 operator,” He said, loud enough that the entire crew could hear.

He brought her around to everyone, introducing her. He hoped that it would help put some faces to the names that he mentions so often when he talks about work. 

They were talking with Athena when Hen came up to say hello, and Buck could feel the blush creep upon his face before she even started talking. 

“Hi, I’m Hen, I work with your boy here,” she said and gestured to him. “Glad to know you really exist. He talks about you all the time” 

“Really?” Abby asks, and she sounds surprised. 

“Little Bit,” Buck squeaks, showing with his thumb and his pointer finger just how much he’s been talking about her around the station. 

“So where’s he taking you for Valentine’s tomorrow?” Hen asks, giving Buck a knowing look. 

“We hadn’t really, uhh...” Buck replied. Should he have invited her out on Valentine's? He wasn’t even sure that she had the evening off. He wasn’t even sure that she was going to want to spend the evening with him, considering up until a few days ago they hadn’t even met in person. 

“We don’t have a plan,” Abby says, casually. 

“Yeah, I mean you know, I have to work and...” he trails, scratching the back of his neck as he tries to think of a better excuse. 

“Your shift ends at two, so does mine,” Hen smirks, and she knows she’s pushing all the right buttons. Buck can’t tell if she’s playing wingman, or if she’s digging his grave for him, but he loves her regardless. “I’m going home to my wife.”

“Uh, well we’re just being casual, it’s no big deal,” Abby replies, rather nonchalant. “It’s just a day.”

“Yeah, the only day he’s obligated to show you a good time.” Athena pipes in. 

“So what are you doing for Valentine’s Day?” Abby asks Athena like she’s trying to take the attention off her and Buck. Is she uncomfortable? He can’t quite get a read on what she’s feeling. 

Athena laughs and shakes her head, “me, hell, I put in for an extra shift. I’m doing whatever I can to keep my mind off romance for the night.”

“Oh,” Abby replies with a nod.

“So where are you taking her? And it better not be a salad bar,” Athena says and Buck puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Nah, you know, it’ll be someplace, uh, really nice,” Buck responds, looking to Abby with a smile. 

“Okay, great.” Abby smiles. 

“Cool.”

“Getting kinda late for a rezzy.” Hen points out, and Buck kind of hates her for it. 

“Well, I know people.” He replies, and maybe it’s a little too fast. He knows people, right? He has to be able to get them in somewhere. 

“Oh. He knows people.” Hen clarifies, raising her eyebrows like she knows he’s full of shit. “He knows people.”

“Oh yeah,” Abby nods, and it doesn’t sound like she believes it one bit. 

“Goodbye Hen. Goodbye, Hen.” Buck says, trying to push her away so she would stop teasing them and she wouldn’t budge. 

Thankfully, he was saved by the bells ringing, signaling it was time for them to leave for a call. 

He turned to Abby, who looked a little startled, and he gestured to where the sound was coming from. “Ah, we gotta go... Um, tomorrow? How about 7?”

“Okay, alright.” She nods with a smile, so he pulled her in for a hug. 

“Cool, I’ll see you then.” 

***

So Buck had to figure out where they were going for dinner. On Valentine’s day, in Los Angeles. 

Fuck. He had to know someone who worked at a restaurant in the area right? Maybe someone on one of his calls. He responded to a gas leak at a fancy restaurant downtown a couple of weeks ago... he could try calling there to see if he could get a table? 

He stressed about it all through his shift. He couldn’t sit still through family dinner, and Hen heckled him about it. 

“You could have just told her that you were going to make her dinner or something, that’s always romantic.”

“You know I can’t cook very well,” Buck says defensively. Knowing his track record, he would probably burn the dinner and they were going to have to order take out. “Plus, we can’t do dinner at my place because my roommates are slobs, and then her mom would be there if we did dinner at her place, so it wouldn’t really be romantic.”

“Fair,” Hen says with a shrug, smiling at him. “You said that you know people, right? Have you tried giving them a call?”

“Every time I go to call them, we get sent out again,” Buck says but pulls up the contact information anyway. 

“Just call. The worst that they could say is no.”

So he calls, and by some miracle, they were able to get him in for a reservation at 8. 

***

To say that Buck was nervous about this date was an understatement. It had been a long time since he’d gone out on a date. Sure, he’d gone on blind dates here and there, and those were fun and mostly casual. This date though? He really wanted it to be special, to make a good impression.

He’s not sure he’s been on a date with someone on Valentine’s Day since high school, because he mostly spent the holiday with casual hook-ups having meaningless sex to take his mind off being so lonely. 

Sure, the concept of Valentine’s Day was stupid and Buck wasn’t a huge fan of it, but he got the sense that Abby actually cared at least a little about the holiday, so he was going to try and make it special. 

He brought in his tux to work and made sure to hang it up so that it wouldn’t get wrinkled. He got teased a bit by Hen and Chimney about his “hot date,” but Buck tried his best not to let it get to him. He had a hot date and he was proud of it (and a bit anxious). 

When his shift came to an end, Buck showered at the station. He was technically off at two, but a call that they went on had him off shift a little later than expected. So, in his mind, he was running late. 

Which just made everything a little bit more nerve-wracking. 

Bobby must have sensed it. He’d made his way over while Buck fussed with his tie and swatted his hands away. “Let me help you with that,” he said, taking the tie off his neck to straighten it out. 

“I can do it,” Buck says, but sighs and lets Bobby help anyway. 

He came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders like it was easier if he did it without looking. He did it pretty quickly, and Buck was surprised. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” He asks, looking up while Bobby fastened the tie around his neck. “I feel bad, you and Chimney having to pull double shifts.” 

“Nah, Chimney is so excited to be back he’d work four shifts in a row if we asked him to. I already told Gardner I’d cover the first half of his day so he could spend it with his wife. So I’m good,” he says and gives Buck’s shoulders a pat. “Alright, turn around.”

“What if I screw this up?” Buck asks nervously as Bobby worked out some small kinks in the tie. 

“Screw it up? Well, my advice is don’t.”

Like that’s easy to do. There are so many ways that he could screw this up. Buck could say something wrong, or stupid, and give her the completely wrong impression. He’s dated enough women to know that he’s not the best with words. He’s also been around Abby enough to know that he’s attracted to her. 

“Uh, okay. What happens if we start having sex?”

“Why would that happen?” Bobby questions and raised his brows at him. 

“Cause that’s what always happens— I’m a sex addict,” Buck replies, flustered. God, he hadn’t been this nervous to go on a date in a very, very long time. 

“Self-diagnosed, yeah.” Bobby shrug casually. “Listen, it’s not uncommon for a guy to use quick, meaningless sex to avoid real intimacy.”

“Wait, so you’re saying, you know, it might be okay to sleep with her just as long as I’m not a dick about it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No?”

“Is that what you think I said?” Bobby sounds annoyed; like a dad. 

“That’s what I heard.” Buck shrugs

“That’s not what I said. Why don’t you try this? Why don’t you try something new? Why don’t you try just once, getting to know her, really get to know her.”

“Okay, so I should.... not sleep with her tonight?” 

“Correct.”

“Okay.” Buck nods. Sounds easy enough... Right? 

“You should not have sex with her tonight. If you’re really interested in her. A woman like that deserves a little chivalry.” Bobby encourages, and it's really what Buck needs to hear. He likes being pointed in a certain direction. Boundaries and guidelines were easy for him to follow, most of the time. 

“Chivalry? Okay, I like that. You know, and don’t be a dick.”

“You know what, Buck? I think if you focus on the first part, the second part will take care of itself,” Bobby grunts and Buck gives him an awkward chuckle. “Geez.”

“Alright, I got it I got it. Let me try on this jacket.” He says, reaching for it. He puts it on and takes a quick look in the mirror, gaining a little confidence in his shoulders. “How do I look?”

“You look real handsome.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bobby nods.

“Okay good.”

“Good luck.”

“I don’t want it,” Buck replies cheekily. 

“Good luck keeping it in your pants,” Bobby teases, and Buck can feel is ears turn bright red. 

“No, I’m not... Bobby!!” 

***

Picking Abby up actually went a lot smoother than he thought it was going to be. He left the station to pick up some flowers and chocolate at the store. He sat in about an hour of L.A.’s finest traffic, and then made it to her apartment at 7, just like he said he would. 

Carla answers the door when he knocks, and Buck smiles at her. “Hi.”

“Buckaroo you look handsome,” Carla grins and lets him in. 

“Thanks,” He replies bashfully, his chin dipping to his chest in embarrassment. 

Abby comes out of her bedroom looking absolutely stunning. She's done her hair and make-up unlike Buck has ever seen it. She's wearing a beautiful black dress that was both elegant and stylish. 

“You look amazing,” Buck grins, biting his lip as he debates pulling her in for a hug. He does it anyway. 

“Thanks, you sure clean up nice,” Abby responds, hugging him back. 

“Thanks,” he says as he steps back to hand her the flowers. “Um, these are for you.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” Abby responds, putting the vase on the center of her counter. 

“These are for you too,” he says, giving her the box of chocolate. “I, uh, I didn’t know what kind of chocolate you liked, so I-I just got an assortment.”

“It’s great, thank you,” she replies, setting the chocolate near the flowers. “We should probably get going, right? You said the reservation is at 8?” 

“Yeah, we should,” Buck smiles with a nod, “Thanks so much, Carla. I hope you have a great evening.”

“You two have fun, but not too much fun,” she replies with a wink, pushing them both out the door. 

The drive to the restaurant was a little bit awkward, but Buck feels like he's pretty good at small talk. They discussed their latest calls at work, and eventually, the conversation flowed easily. 

When they got to the restaurant, Buck tried really, really hard to order a good wine for them. In retrospect, he probably should have let Abby pick the wine, but he wants to impress her, so he tried his best. 

He ends up asking the sommelier what he thinks is the best wine and goes with that. 

“You weren’t kidding,” Abby says, looking around the restaurant, “you really do know people. I don’t know how you got us in here.” 

“I-I, uh, I know the owner.” Buck tries to shrug casually. “Well, I-I met him um... we uh, contained a noxious gas leak for them a couple of weeks ago, so....”

“Oh..”

“Yeah, just try not to breathe too much.” Buck jokingly plugs his nose, and Abby covers her mouth with her hand, and they both laugh. “Yeah, like that.”

“Uh, um, no, it’s fine. He was really appreciative.” Buck says as the sommelier comes by with their wine. Growing up, his parents really liked wine, so he had an idea of how the wine tasting process went. Sure, he wasn’t well versed in it, but he tried. He took a sip of the wine, then looks at Abby and shrugs, “uh, yeah, sure, tastes like wine to me.”

They ease back into conversation, and Buck can't help but think about how pretty Abby looks. Her hair is incredible. Had she done it like that before? 

His mind goes down a rabbit hole and he over-analyzes each of their interactions briefly before he has to stop himself. He was thinking too much about it and making things all the more complicated in his head. He wants to have sex with her, sure, and he is most definitely attracted to her, but they were going to take this at her pace. He was going to be patient. He had to remember that he wasn’t sleeping with her... unless she wanted to... right? No. Bobby said not to sleep with her. Should he wait until their third date? That's what people did, right? He shouldn't--

A piece of bread lodges itself in his throat, and he tries to clear his throat like it's nothing. Be cool, Buck, you're not choking in front of her. 

Oh god, this is so embarrassing. He tries to drink some water, but that only makes it worse. Now he really can't breathe. Coughing isn't working, and the next thing he knows, there's a guy behind him trying to do the Heimlich maneuver. 

Oh god. Everyone was staring and he was most definitely ruining their date. 

Things started to get a little fuzzy as Abby went through everything she knew how to do. He knew as well as she did, that unless they could get his airway clear, things weren't going to turn out great. 

It got hard to keep his eyes open after a few minutes, so he let himself go down. He could idly hear Abby panicking in the background but his mind went numb to anything happening to him or around him. 

When he finally came too, all he could feel was panic and shock. Something in his mind told him not to move, then the pain in his throat slowly eased to the forefront of his mind.

Abby looked absolutely panicked, but like she was working solely on adrenaline trying to make sure that he didn't die right then and there. He wanted to calm her, and let her know that he was okay, so he brought a shaky hand up to hold Abby's, giving it a squeeze while they waited for paramedics to arrive on the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may notice that I've changed things up a little... I'm going to make this a series. SO, if you signed up for Buddie and were getting only Buck and Abby... Sorry. Eddie is coming in part two; I've changed the tags to reflect that!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone!! A big big thanks to fernnette and donut247hey for betaing these next few chapters! We're finally getting somewhere.

“Hi! What are you doing in there?” Buck asks as he approaches a little girl that's stuck in a claw machine. It looks like she’s likely climbed in to pick out a stuffed animal for herself, and Buck can’t say that he wouldn’t do the same as a kid. “I’m gonna have to take you out, if that’s okay with you?”

She nods, and it wasn’t really a question, but the confirmation is enough for Buck to set down his bag and get going. 

“All right, you’ll be fine,” He smiles. 

Buck loves kids. There’s just something about them that’s so easy to be around. They almost always say what they’re feeling, and they’re pretty easy to read. He often feels like a big kid himself. He knows that people probably find him immature at times, but he’s doing the best he can. He didn’t have a ton of guidance growing up, and he really didn’t receive a lot of patience from the adults around him. He tries to give kids the benefit of the doubt. He knows that most kids have good intentions but execute things poorly and that in itself is a hard concept for some people to understand. So he tries his best, he’s patient, and he tries to understand where they might be coming from.

He’s often wondered when people start to become guarded. He can’t quite remember when he started to guard himself from his feelings, but he knows that he’s done it a while. He knows that somewhere around 12 or 13 he started paying more attention to how the things that he said or did affected people because that's when he started realizing the effect that people had on him. 

He gets to work taking the bolts off one of the sides of the claw machine, and the girl giggles away. He can’t help but smile back. It’s quick work, and he soon has the window open. 

“Hi, you ready?” He asks and holds out his arms for her. “Yeah? Okay, watch your head. I got you.” 

“Thank you,” the girl’s mother says, taking her daughter into her arms. “I can’t believe they didn’t have the key for this.”

“Don’t worry,” Buck tells her, giving one of his award-winning smiles. “It’s, uh, it’s one of those nights. And here. Congratulations on your moo-moo,” he says and hands the girl the stuffed animal she was playing within the claw machine. 

He leaves the scene confidently, pulling out his phone to give Abby a call. It’s his first night back on shift after the whole choking on bread and needing an emergency tracheotomy situation. 

“911 what's your emergency?” Abby says playfully as she answers the phone. 

Buck howls in response, looking at the full moon across the water. 

“You are such a dork,” Abby responds fondly. “You’re a cute dork, but you’re a dork.”

“A cute dork? Okay, I’ll take that,” Buck grins. 

“How are you? How you feeling? How’s your first day back?” Abby asks in rapid succession. 

“I feel great. Uh, no pain, got minor discomfort, but, uh, don’t you worry. I have someone monitoring my bread intake.” He says with a laugh and wonders if the comment is too soon. 

They’ve talked about it. He’s been off work for about two weeks, so they’ve had plenty of time to talk through everything. Hopefully, she takes it for what it is. 

“I’m so relieved.” Abby deadpans. “So, when are we going to do this again? I mean dinner, not the tracheotomy.”

Buck pauses, he’s not sure if he should take it as sarcasm or if she’s actually serious. There’s a tone in her voice that almost sounds unamused. She’s been doing that a lot lately, and Buck wonders if it’s just who she is, or if she’s actually irked. 

“I don’t know,” he replies thoughtfully, trying not to read too much into it. “Um, I have a run of shifts, but i will check the schedule. Oh, are you buckling in?”

“Uh, am I buckling in?” 

“Uh, full moon. It’s gonna get bumpy,” Buck grins. 

“Uh, no. I do not buy into all that full moon BS,” she says and Buck can almost hear the eye roll through the phone. 

“Oh buy into it?” He asks playfully. “No, no, no. It-it is science, you know? Every full moon the freaks come out. Crime increases, emergency rooms are packed, animals and kids go nuts.”

“No, in my experience, anyone who is going to be an idiot on the full moon is gonna be an idiot on the half moon or the quarter moon or the no moon. There is no statistical evidence that any crime or accidents or general freakiness increases during the full moon.” 

“Abby, I just pulled a kid out of one of those stuffed animal arcade games.” 

“I know, but that would have happened whether it was a full moon or not,” she points out. 

“Mmmm, you don't know that.” 

“I do know that. How many full moons have you worked?”

“Um, one,” he responds, almost feeling a little belittled. 

“Right, bye Buck.”

“No, wait, hold on, look, I’m telling you, all right? Freaks come out. Now you call me when the night’s over, okay?” he says and howls again. 

“Bye Buck, bye,” she doesn’t sound amused in the slightest, but he hopes that she finds some humor in it. 

***

The next call that Buck runs is with Bobby to a yoga studio where they’re responding to a pregnant woman who got stuck in a pose. Normally, they’d have Hen or Chimney with them, but they got stuck on another call and are running this one themselves. 

“It’s a fact. Gravity is heavier during full moons, scientists have proven it,” Buck says as they get out of the ambulance and they head towards the building.

“You read this in a peer-reviewed, scientific publication?”

“Uh, I don’t know, is the internet considered a scientific publication?” 

“Buck, the idea that the moon causes odd behavior and happenings goes back to the first century. It’s folklore, magical thinking.” 

The call feels pretty routine. The expectant mother is just caught in a really awkward position, but everything seems to be okay with her. It’s when they get her up and in a comfortable position that all hell breaks loose. 

First, one mom starts having contractions and Bobby is certain that it’s just Braxton hicks. Easy enough, they’ll just take her to the hospital to make sure--

Second, another mom’s water breaks. She ever-so-kindly mentions to Buck that this is her fourth child and that the baby is COMING (like right now) and Buck almost panics. He doesn’t have time to, because THEN a THIRD mom starts going into labor. 

It’s definitely the moon. 

“Seriously? I’m not... Bob, I’ve never done this before.” Buck says as Bobby leaves his side to help the third mother. 

“It’s okay, I will talk you through it,” Bobby responds in what Buck is sure is meant to be a reassuring tone, but nothing feels reassuring about it. 

“They say when a full moon is halfway between the eastern horizon and its highest point, it can induce labor,” the yoga instructor admits, horrified. “I knew I should have canceled this class.”

“Just saying, I did tell you,” Buck defends himself. The full moon was a thing, and he wasn’t the only one who thought so. 

“Okay, we can discuss the moon later, Buck,” Bobby exasperates, scanning the room. It was obvious that some of the other moms were panicked, and it wasn’t helping the moms that were already in labor. “If you’re not in labor right now, could you please go out into the hall and give us some space. Thank you.” 

Honestly, whatever is happening right now is so freaky yet amazing. They’re able to help two of the women through labor, and that in itself is super gratifying. He helped bring life into the world, something he’s never done before. 

There’s a part of him, in the back of his mind, that wonders if Abby wants any kids. There’s a chance that she doesn’t, and Buck’s not entirely sure how he feels about that. He’s known since he was a kid that he’s wanted to be a dad. He wants to give his kids a childhood unlike his own. One where they are seen, and heard, and comfortable to talk freely. 

He feels that things could be like that with Abby, but they’ve really only gone on one date, and it’s probably way too early to bring that up... right? 

“Well, I’m Buck, and that’s Bobby,” he says with a grin once both moms have their babies wrapped tightly in their arms. “Just in case you want to name him after us. You know, in our honor or something.”

“No, I don’t think so,” the mom who just gave birth to a beautiful baby boy says.

Once everyone who went into labor is well taken care of and they’re on their way back out to the ambulance, Buck looks at Bobby with a grin. 

“You still think this full moon stuff is a myth?” He asks. 

“Yes,” Bobby rolls his eyes, “and I still think you’re an idiot.”

Buck believed in it, and that’s what mattered, right? Freaky shit was happening on the full moon, so it had to be related to the full moon, end of story. Even if Bobby and Abby didn’t believe him. 

***

Buck and Bobby’s next call involves a guy complaining of stomach pains. They arrive at the apartment and there is a guy who Buck assumes is his boyfriend is locked out of the bathroom. 

It takes a little coaxing at first, but they finally let him into the bathroom. 

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” Bobby asks, trying to keep it as clinical as possible. 

“Something is happening,” the guy, Conner says, looking miserable .”It, like, the... Like the worst cramping pressure feeling that I’ve ever experienced-- it’s like I’m giving birth or something.” 

“Oh stop it,” Conner’s boyfriend rolled his eyes. “We had sushi tonight. He always orders the omakase but he can't handle anyone telling him what to do, so he orders more... you just have an upset stomach.” 

“If you tell me I just have a stomachache one more time I’m gonna stab you with your toothbrush. I swear, I felt it moving, okay? I felt something moving,” Conner groaned. 

“How long have you been having the cramps?” Bobby asked. 

“Uh, about a week? Yeah, I made a doctor's appointment for Friday.” 

“Any other symptoms?”

“No.” 

Conner’s boyfriend scoffs, “he’s been having a lot of gas.”

“Shut up!” Conner snaps. 

“You have!” His boyfriend defends himself. “I mean it kind of builds up almost like an overture and then there's a nice little tuba solo, it’s a tremendous amount of horrible flatulence.” 

“Paul!”

Bobby takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “Okay just lean back, let me have a look.”

“You guys eat a lot of sushi?” Buck asks, looking between Paul and Conner. 

“He does--” Paul answers, “about four or five times a week.”

“I try to go carb- and fat-free as often as possible,” Conner admits, looking at Buck. 

“Oh, same here,” Buck agrees, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “You guys ever try the brown rice pasta? You know, it’s not that bad.”

“You know, it’s a little gummy for my taste,” replies Conner. 

“Yeah, I see that, okay,” Buck shrugs. 

“Yeah, hey, what’s your body fat percentage?” Connor asks, and Buck finds himself leaning in a little closer. 

“I swing between like 50--”

“Okay,” Bobby interrupts, “can we finish the most interesting conversation of all time later? Does this hurt? Does that feel tender?” 

Bobby pokes around his stomach in a few different places. Buck assumes that he’s probably checking for appendicitis, which is entirely possible. But a week or so of pain? That doesn’t sound right. Usually, appendicitis was somewhat onset.

Maybe it was something else. Maybe it's a worm or an intestinal blockage of some sort. He pondered a couple of other ideas but had a sneaking suspicion that with the amount of sushi they ate it was something along the lines of a parasite. 

“No,” Conner replies. 

“What about your bowel movements? Any diarrhea?” Bobby asks. 

“No.”

“Yes!” Paul groans, “why would you lie to him about that, he's trying to help you!”

“Okay, sorry, yes,” Conner replies and throws his head back in embarrassment. 

“He has poop shame.”

Suddenly, something changes. Conner goes from somewhat okay to in excruciating pain. 

“Okay, just take a deep breath, okay?” Bobby says, looking between Conner and Buck. “Relax. Take a deep breath.”

“Oh my god! No, no, no! I’m going to burst! I’m going to explode!” Conner yells, clutching his stomach. 

“Let’s get him in the ambulance right now,” Bobby says, and Buck doesn’t question it. He goes to help Bobby get him up. They take him downstairs and get him loaded in the ambulance, ready to go to the hospital. 

“Drive faster,” Conner groans. A few minutes down the road. “I feel like I’m going to explode all over the place.”

“All right, Conner, you’re doing great,” Bobby coaches, “we’re almost to the hospital, they’re gonna do a scan and figure out exactly what’s going on.”

“There’s something under my leg,” Conner panics a little. 

“It’s just the IV tube, alright?” Buck reassures, gesturing to it. “It’s underneath you.”

“No, no, no, it's moving!” He fidgets, looking at both Buck and Bobby There’s something moving under my leg.” 

“Alright, let’s turn him and check it out,” Bobby says, and Buck moves to help get Conner on his side. 

They get him turned and Buck grins. He was right. 

“Oh!” Bobby gasps, quickly moving back. 

“What?!” Conner screeches. 

“What the hell is that?!” Paul asks, inching as far back as he can in the small, cramped ambulance. 

“It’s a tapeworm,” Buck responds casually, reaching out to touch it. He’s seen them a time or two, and actually thinks they’re fairly interesting. A little gross, sure, but cool nonetheless. 

“Tapeworm? I have a tapeworm?!” Conner asks, mortified. 

“Wait a minute it’s coming out of his... I’m gonna be sick,” Paul purses his lips in disgust. 

“Oh, get it out. Get it out!” 

“Oh, I can see the mouth,” Paul gags. 

“I mean, we can pull it out.” Buck shrugs, looking at Bobby. 

“No. No, no, absolutely not,” Bobby says, looking like he’s going to be sick himself. “We’re almost to the hospital-- they’re gonna remove that with the proper instruments, put him on some albendazole, and then we call it a night.”

“No, please, no. I can’t take those drugs. They’re toxic,” Conner shakes his head. “They put me on Flagyl for diverticulitis once and it gave me severe heartburn and turned my pee burnt sienna.”

“Burnt sienna?” Buck questions, lifting a brow while he holds the tapeworm to keep it from moving around too much. 

“It was brown! Okay? It was dark brown!” Conner yells. “Now, just please, I am begging you, get it out!”

“It’s all you Buck,” Bobby says, sitting back as far as he can, looking disgusted as ever.   
“Really? So you have no problems delivering a baby but this creeps you out?” Buck can’t help but laugh. 

“Seniority has its advantages.”

“Just get it out,” Connor cries.

“Okay,” Buck says, looking at the tapeworm and getting a better grasp on it. 

“What are you waiting for? Get it out.” Bobby gestures, watching him Buck like a hawk. 

“I have to be careful, alright? If it breaks it’ll crawl back inside and regenerate.” 

“Oh god,” Bobby gulps. 

“I’m definitely gonna puke,” Paul says, but it’s like he can’t peel his eyes away. “I knew you didn’t go from a 34 to a 31 waist with sit-ups. Tapeworms are an old fashioned models’ trick for losing weight.”

“You know, these things can live inside of you for like 20 years?” Buck says, slowly but surely. 

“Ugh, this is insane, it’s like a magician's handkerchief,” Paul more or less gags. 

“Honestly it kind of makes perfect sense, all the sushi you guys eat. It’s like playing Russian roulette with parasites. And with the moon--” Buck looks at Bobby for a fraction of a second before he looks back at the tapeworm, “parasitic breeding cycles rise and fall with the full moon.” 

“Will you shut up about the moon?” Bobby throws his head back,“I honestly don’t know how you’re so calm about this.”

“It’s nature, you know? Circle of life,” Buck shrugs and can’t help but grin. He’s fully enjoying seeing Bobby so uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, I don't think that’s what Elton John had in mind when he wrote that,” Paul chimes in again, unamused. 

“Man, this has to be, like, 6 or 7 feet,” Buck comments, “have you been worn down lately? This thing has been stealing all your nutrients.”

“How do you know so much about tapeworms?” Bobby asks before Conner could answer. 

“I tended bar one summer at a surf beach in South America. These are as common as house cats.” He says as gives one final tug to get the tapeworm out.   
“Oh, god,” Bobby looks visibly uncomfortable as Buck places the worm in one of the specimen bags in the ambulance. 

“Congratulations, Conner, it's a boy.” He says as he seals the bag with the worm. 

***

All day he’s toyed around with the idea of making a surprise visit to Abby’s. He thought about it a lot on his way over, whether or not he was going to; he knew that she was off shift, but he didn’t talk to her about stopping by. He just wanted to show up, since he knew she had a rough night. He wanted to make her night a little better. 

He decides just to go ahead and do it. Why not show up with a bottle of wine? The worst thing that could happen is that she could tell him that she really just wanted to go to bed. He could respect that. He was tired too. 

He knocks on the door and almost second guesses it, but he’s had a long night where Bobby was clearly unamused with any of his antics. He’s pushed through this far, so he was going to follow through with his plan. 

“So, I was driving home, and I hit a red light,” Buck says the second that Abby opens the door. “uh, and I looked up at the moon, um, and before I knew it I was pulling into a liquor store to buy us this bottle of wine and then I drove straight here.”

“Did the moon cast a spell on you?” Abby more or less rolls her eyes, and Buck’s soul dies a little. Why didn’t anyone agree with him?

“It's real. Its gravity. And it pulls people together,” he defends himself, mustering a smile. 

“Mm, no, actually, you know this right? The phases of the moon are caused by its positioning relative to the sun and the sun’s shadow, like, it doesn’t actually get bigger or smaller?” 

“I don’t think that’s actually true,” he cocks a brow. He’s not quite sure how much more he can take of this. 

“Oh, no, that’s definitely true.” She says and it’s a little condescending if he’s honest. But, she’s inching in, and Buck steps out of her bubble in case that’s not her intention. 

“Really?” He asks, and she steps a little closer. 

“Yeah, really” she laughs. 

“Um, well, even better,” He says because this isn’t how any of this went in his head before he came over. “You know? ‘Cause... then science got nothing to do with it. It’s magic.”  
“Mmm, nope.” She shakes her head. “Not magic either.”

Buck lets out a soft exhale, his feelings a little hurt. He’s quickly realizing she’s not budging, and he doesn’t have a whole lot more effort to even try to fight her on it. There’s a lot he wants to say but doesn’t. She’s got a smile on her face, though, and she inches closer into his bubble, so he can’t help but smile back at her. 

“Maybe it’s not science or magic. Maybe you just really wanted to see me,” she hums, then leans in and plants a kiss on his lips. 

They don’t do much talking after that, and Buck lets her take the lead. He’s so used to being the one calling all the shots in the bedroom that there’s something nice about not taking control. He’s here to do this at her pace, and if she doesn’t want to do more than kiss, that’s more than okay with him. 

They find their way to the bedroom and Abby tugs at Buck’s shirt. He helps her take it off, then reaches down to gently pull off her glasses and set them aside so they don’t get lost in a tangle of clothing somewhere along the way. 

By the time they make it into bed, they’ve found a bit of a rhythm. It’s a lot slower than he’s used to, and he’s a lot more hesitant. He doesn’t think the hesitancy is bad, though, he just wants to make her feel good, so he takes his time. There is a lot of kissing, and touching and everything about it is tender. It warms Buck’s heart in a way that he didn’t think sex could. 

He wonders if it’s because he wasn’t just having sex to have sex. He feels lighter than air for a brief couple of minutes after his orgasm. He feels loved in a way he’s not sure he’s ever felt. Everything about that was good for him and fulfilling, and whatever trepidations he’d had earlier in the night are gone. 

He takes extra steps to make sure she’s okay, that she’s cleaned up, trying his best to make sure that she’s as loved as he feels. When all is said and done, he settles behind her and wraps an arm around her waist to hold her close. It’s good, for a while, but he’s still very intune to Abby. She doesn’t feel as light as he feels. She feels rigid like she’s thinking. Buck doesn’t know what to think of that. He wants to know exactly what’s going on in her head. Was it enough for her? Is she okay? Did they move too fast? 

His mind rapid-fire questions every little move they made, every kiss that he placed. He’d made sure that it’s what she’d wanted, more than once. She was the one who made the moves, he just followed along. Why was she rigid? 

He closes his eyes, trying to calm his mind just a little. Suddenly that lightness that he was feeling was gone, replaced by a certain heaviness he was all too familiar with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been saying it, but I think with the end of part one insight I can officially say that I think I will have all of part one typed up sometime this week.... which means I might just post the last few chapters sometime this week. I make zero promises, but chapter 8 is almost edited and ready to go. 
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading and for commenting! (sorry to those of you who have commented and I haven't responded to!!!!)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a week? Who am I?   
> Thanks to the lovely fernette and donut247hey for all the wonderful help with thissss!

He doesn’t bring it up. 

By morning, he’s calmed down. He chalked it up to him overthinking things. It was probably irrational, right? 

Abby doesn’t seem upset or anything, and she definitely is acting like she had a good time, so he doesn’t let himself stew on it. 

He leaves before her mother notices that he’s there. It’s a skill he’s perfected over the years, and he’s rather ashamed that it used to be something he was proud of. 

They carry on their conversations as normal. She doesn’t seem weird or distant or anything. In fact, she seems maybe even a little more talkative than usual and it calms a lot of the nerves Buck was having about it. 

But not completely. 

There’s a heaviness in his chest that he can’t explain as he makes his way home. He has the next couple of days off, and no plans with anyone. Honestly, it hurts. A lot. It’s something so hollow, yet so unbelievably heavy, and he has no way of explaining it. 

By the time he gets back to his place, he’s overthinking everything. He goes into the kitchen to find something to eat, only to find that his roommates have left the place a fucking disaster. It smells like stale beer, there are dirty dishes everywhere, and someone ate the ice cream he had saved in the freezer for himself. 

He goes up to his room and grabs his phone, hoping that he’s able to find something to distract himself from the involuntary chaos in his head. Looking at his phone, however, only makes it worse. He comes across the text message he left Maddie, his sister, and it remains unanswered.

He checks Instagram, and all the people he thought were once friends are all hanging out with each other, yet no one has contacted him in months. His heart pangs with insecurities he usually does a really good job of shoving down so deep, even he doesn’t feel them sometimes. 

But sometimes, they come all at once, and he feels like he’s drowning in the feelings that surround them.

***

Abby has a way of pulling Buck out of moods just by sending something as simple as a text. His body feels lighter when he sees her name light up on the screen. It’s like his brain is holding onto that one little bit of happiness and changing the course of his entire day. 

She didn’t send much, just a stupid call that she had to take. Buck understood the need to want to rant about work, though, and it was certainly a great topic of conversation in their line of work. 

She had to get back to work, though, and Buck had to get about his day. He sits on his phone for a while, trying to figure out cute date ideas and things to do with Abby when they both have a day off together. 

He wants to pick something good. He feels like he has to make up for the fact that he nearly choked to death on their last date. How romantic. 

So, he looks into different restaurants, making sure to stay away from anything that may offer a bread basket before the meal. Eventually, he settles on a cute taco truck that’s not far from where Abby lives. Partially because he’s really had a hankering for tacos recently, partially because they have a cute outdoor dining area, where they can sit and talk, and if she needs to get home to her mom it’s less than a few blocks away. 

**Buck:** Let me know when you get home, I have a surprise for you. 

**Abby:** A surprise? What kind? 

**Buck:** You’ll like it, I promise. 

He doesn’t hear back from her until she’s off shift. He drives over to her apartment, knocks on the door, and waits for her to answer. “Hey,” He says with a smile, “are you hungry?” 

She glances back at the obvious bag of take-out that’s sitting on her counter, and then back at him and his heart drops a little. He should have thought that she would’ve already had dinner planned out. 

“Shoot, Buck, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was going to be a dinner related surprise,” she says, looking as sympathetic as she can. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” he musters up a smile. “Smells like you got something good.”

“It’s Thai... I should have enough if you want to eat here? I can get more rice going too. They never give you enough rice for curry anyway.” 

“I don’t want to intrude, it's okay,” he says, feeling bad for not giving her a little more heads up. 

“You’re not intruding,” she blinks. “Come in, seriously.” 

They sit down together and eat. It’s nice, and the conversation flows okay. They talk about work, and she tells him about what’s new with her mom’s care plan. It’s a little awkward, but Buck is happy just to spend time with her. 

“You have the day off tomorrow, right?” He asks her, taking a bite of curry while he waits for her to answer. 

“Yeah, actually, I’m surprised you remember.” 

“Well, I was thinking, maybe we could go to the beach or the pier?” Buck suggests. 

“That would be nice,” Abby replies with a smile, taking a long sip of her wine. 

“Okay,” Buck smiles. “I can pick you up around like 10 or so? Does that work?”

“That sounds great.”

They fall back into easy conversation, and when they are both finished with their meals, Buck sticks around to help clean up. He talks with her mom, some, then when he catches her drifting asleep, he takes that as his cue to leave. 

***

The next morning Buck stops to get coffee for him and Abby, then he heads to her place. He’s there right before 10, knocking on her door with the coffees in hand and a smile on his face. 

He chose something easy to wear. They were going to be at the beach, so he thought it was probably best to wear swim trunks and a tank top. It was spring in Los Angeles, so it was hot, but by no means as hot as it was going to get this year. 

He had it all planned out. They were going to start on the pier, play some games, go on the Ferris Wheel, then they were going to have a picnic on the beach and enjoy the sun. He hadn’t been to the pier since he moved to LA, and he was actually really excited to go.

All of that excitement fled his body when Abby opened the door and it looked like she was on her way out with her mom. 

“Oh, hi, Buck,” Abby says, glancing at his attire and the coffees in his hands. She pulls a stray hair out of her face, smiling for a moment before her face falls. “Shit. We were supposed to go to the pier this morning, weren’t we? I knew there was something I was forgetting.”

Buck cocks a brow, she forgot? They’d had the conversation _last night_ not a week ago. 

“Is that coffee for me?” She asks, taking the iced vanilla latte out of his hand. “You’re seriously a saint, and I seriously owe you one, but I have to take my mom to a doctor's appointment. I’m so sorry. They called this morning and said they needed to bump it up to today.”

“Oh, um,” Buck shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee to buy him a few seconds. There was a lot going through his mind. Was he really that forgettable? If she got the call earlier that morning, couldn’t she have texted to let him know? Sure, he understood that she was busy, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“Thank you so much,” She said, handing her mom her purse before she leaned in to give Buck a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

***

He’s 0 for 3 on this whole dating thing with Abby, and it’s really starting to get on his nerves. But, by the time he gets back to work the next day, he’s feeling a lot better, his head more clear at the station. They end up doing a blood drive for Chimney, which isn’t exactly what Buck expected to be doing at the end of his shift, but there were worse things that could happen. 

He sits near Hen, who’s telling him about Denny and all the mischief that he’s been up to. There’s something off about her and Buck can’t quite put his finger on it. She’s holding herself different like she’s slightly more guarded than usual. He doesn’t ask about it though. 

Bobby is already dressed and ready to go home by the time that Buck is all finished up donating blood. Chimney stops him, letting him know that he’s two pints short, and Bobby refuses. 

“Look,” Bobby sighs. “I’m not good with needles. When I was a kid someone tried to take my blood and I punched them in the face. The last time someone tried to take my blood I passed out.”

Buck can’t help but laugh at that. The thought of Bobby, the man who can assist in the birth of three babies, or be completely level headed in the most serious situations, unable to give blood? There was something a little ridiculous about that. 

“It’s not funny,” Bobby snaps, and whatever premonitions Buck had that made him think today was going to be a good day were zapped right out of him. Now he’s just ready to go home, sleep it off, and be human enough to seem okay at work tomorrow. 

He clocks off and heads home, trying to keep any and all interaction with the general public to a minimum, he doesn’t need anyone to be collateral for his piss poor mood that he’s suddenly in. 

He stops and picks up some take out on his way home, because he’s certain that his roommates have probably eaten any and all groceries that he bought for _himself,_ but that they thought were up for grabs. Usually, it doesn’t bug him, but today it’s an entirely different issue because he doesn’t want to have to stop anywhere on his way home from work but he has to. 

He honestly doesn’t know what he’s doing in his life to have so many superficial relationships. He wants to talk to Abby about it, but he knows that she’s going through a lot right now and he really just doesn’t want to dump his insecurities on her this early in their relationship. 

Plus, what did he really have to be upset about anyway? Bobby had made it pretty clear to him the first time he was caught stealing a ladder truck for a hookup that they were not a family. It’s not like Buck knew what family looked like. His was dysfunctional and left him high and dry the first opportunity that they got, so it really shouldn’t surprise him that Bobby could be snappy when he wanted to, or that he felt that there was something off about Hen. He knew that no one at the station _really_ cared about him. Not in the way that he cared about them. He felt like he could talk to them about mostly everything... did they feel the same way about him? 

His mind goes back and forth over a variety of conversations that he’s had with his team, and there are maybe a few things that have been said to him or towards him that should have been red flags. 

_”Does anybody really know anybody?”_ Hen had told him a few weeks ago when they were at the call where the floor had fallen through during a wedding reception, shortly after Bobby had relapsed. She was clearly upset about the fact that Bobby hadn’t been truthful to her about a lot of things, but what did she have that she was being dishonest about? 

Just last week, Bobby had said to him _“I still think you’re an idiot,”_ and that was... it was hurtful, but Buck played it off like it was nothing. Should he have said something about it at the time? Or would that have been crossing a line? It probably would have made him look like a crybaby. 

“ _Stop being so emotional, Evan,_ ” his father told him consistently growing up. _”Get a grip. Stop crying. It’s nothing._ ”

By the time he got home, Buck felt like he had cinder blocks tied to his feet and he’d been shoved off a dock into a marina. He feels like he couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t come up for air. The more he tries, the harder it gets, so he locks himself in his room, isolating himself from the world, and tries to _get a grip._

He just doesn't understand why no one cares enough to be close to him. He secretly hopes someone gets it without him having to say. He hopes that someone reaches out; just a simple text would suffice. 

No one does, not even Abby. 

***

The next day Buck feels the slightest bit better, but he’s resigned himself to the fact that it’s just going to be a bad day and he just has to get through it. 

Their first call is a patient who more or less fried himself in a tanning bed at a gym. The first thing that Buck thinks is _ouch_ , the second is _gross_ , because he smells. The third is _wow, that’s fucked up._

The gal who called it in goes through a very dramatic retelling of what happened, why she was there, and what she thinks went wrong. Buck listens, but not intently until he hears her say “What goes around comes around, right?” 

What goes around comes around. Yep. This is exactly what he needed today (read: this is exactly what he didn’t need today, thank you very much), just a little bit of existential crisis to throw into the mix of things going on in his head already. 

He hates it. 

The guy ends up coding, and there is really nothing that they can do for him. He’s burnt to a crisp and probably severely dehydrated among other things. It’s bad, and he doesn’t make it. 

What goes around comes around.

There were some instances where Buck really thought this was true. He knew that some people got what they deserved, but at the end of the day did that make it right? If all bad people died before they got the opportunity to be good people... what’s the point of it all. 

Buck is a firm believer in second chances... and third, and fourth, and maybe even fifth. He knows he probably has a little too much grace for people, but he gives a lot of it because he expects at least some of it in return. He hopes, deep in his heart, that people will be patient with him when situations allow. 

It hasn’t gotten him super far in life, sure, and yeah, he does have a _limit_ to the amount of grace that he gives to certain people, his father in particular... but there is a long, long history of his dad giving him absolutely no grace, and Buck resents him for it. 

Buck is snapped out of his train of thought as he overhears Bobby on the phone with someone. The way that he’s standing and the look on his face means that whatever the call is about, it’s serious. 

The call is about the blood that he donated because apparently, he did that after Buck left, and it had something to do with the lab results. 

“They found something out,” Bobby tells them, “they wouldn’t tell me over the phone, they said they would rather do it in person.” 

Wow. Great. That really adds to the fan-fucking-tastic mood that Buck is in. What does that even mean? Does he have cancer or something? Most bad news is given in person. Good news is almost always given over the phone. 

***

The next call that they take is at the zoo, of all places because there is a tiger on the loose. What the fuck.

To make matters worse, the guy who pissed off the tiger apparently killed some beloved lion on safari a couple of years back. It’s a whole ordeal where they have to split up, and Buck ends up helping civilians get to safety. 

His mood turns a little, halfway through the call. He ends up with a little girl who got separated from her parents, and she tells him all about her day at the zoo and how she saw the hippos and the monkeys AND THE RED PANDAS, which she was really excited about. 

By the time they were back at the station, any lingering thoughts of self-deprecation were there, but they weren’t quite as loud. He didn’t feel like he was drowning in his emotions anymore. If anything, he kind of felt like he may have been slightly overdramatic about everything. 

Deep down, he knows that Abby is a good person and she cares about him. She takes time out of her very busy schedule to call him. She texts him regularly because she knows that he likes receiving texts here and there. So, he really shouldn’t be complaining. 

She calls him when he’s off shift, and they finally get to go and have their taco date. It’s nice like he thought it would be. It’s only about a 5-minute walk from her house, and the weather is perfect for a little stroll. He takes her hand in his and they stand in line, choosing what they want to eat. 

He chooses tacos al pastor, and she gets the taco on their special menu for tonight. 

They sit down, and Buck looks at Abby lovingly. She’s going to town on the chips and salsa she said that she could do without, but Buck ordered anyway. 

“How was your day?” She asks, dipping a chip in guacamole. 

“It was okay, I guess. I only had to work an 8-hour shift, and that was probably for the best. I was kind of in a bad mood,” He shrugs. 

“Oh,” Abby looks up and makes eye contact with him. “Is everything okay?”

“I...” Buck starts, not sure how to word it. “Sometimes I get into my head a little too much, and I overthink things. I’m good now, though, I think.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” She pauses before she puts the chip in her mouth. 

“I... I don't think so? I mean, you’re great. I just... I’m harder on myself than I should be sometimes, and I think I take things to heart a little too much, if you know what I mean,” he tells her and grabs a chip for himself. 

“I mean, I get it,” Abby says with a shrug. “It happens to the best of us, you know? Is this about me forgetting about our date? I’m so, so, so sorry about that.”

“No, I mean, yes,” he pauses and takes a breath, scrunching his nose. “It, uh, the date thing kind of spiraled it, I guess? I don’t know. There’s been a lot going on with people at work and everything, and then you’ve got your mom, and everyone’s got their own lives, you know? They don’t need to worry about me or whatever.”

Abby pauses, putting her chip in the salsa bowl as she reaches for Buck's hand. “Hey, I appreciate you being honest with me, Buck. I know it’s not always easy, and I know that you’ve been through a lot even in just the few months that I’ve known you,” she says reassuringly. “I just want you to know that I’m always here to listen, okay? I know I have a lot on my plate, but there’s always room for you.” 

“Thanks,” Buck says, and it’s like all of the weight that had been sitting on his chest the last few days had gotten up and decided to leave. He felt like he could breathe fully, knowing that someone cared. Abby cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping that the rest of this will be done by the end of the week, but I should at least have Chapter 9 up by Sunday! 
> 
> Then we'll get into Buddie... unless Buck overthinks it.


	9. Chapter 9

Their first call of the day is about a guy who is stuck in the compactor of a garbage truck. Out of all the things that Buck was expecting out of this shift, dealing with a man who’d found himself stuck _there_ of all places was not one of them. 

Bobby lets him drive the Engine. Sure, it’s not quite as cool as the Ladder truck, but it’ll do in a pinch. He ends up needing to cut off the driver of the garbage truck because it becomes very obvious he can’t see or hear them. 

The look on the guy's face when they tell him that someone is stuck in _his_ compactor is complete and utter disbelief. It quickly becomes clear that they’ve located and pulled over the wrong truck, and Buck’s stomach sinks. It means that they’ve lost time and they’ve made this guy stop and he feels awful for it. 

“Oh, um, sorry, thank you,” he stammers, trying his best to apologize, “and you’re doing a great job!”

The other truck is only a couple of blocks away, much to Buck’s relief, and Athena is already on the scene. 

“Did you run the compactor?” Bobby asks the garbage man, “what kind of pressure does it operate under?”

“I don't know, 2000 PSI maybe?” He answers. 

“That would crush a car,” Buck says and his heart sinks a little; they could be too late. 

Before anyone says anything else, Hen is scaling the ladder to get into the garbage truck. Buck follows suit after a couple of seconds. 

“Ooh, this stinks! And people call us heroes?” He scrunches his nose as he looks around at all the trash that had been collected so far today. It was a lot. “Oh, Hen, hold up, it’s going to take forever by hand. Hey, Chim, can you grab shovels?”

“Come on, are you scared to get your hands dirty, Buck? Come on, let's go,” Hen responds, and if Buck had been thinking she seemed a little off in their last couple of shifts, today only confirmed it.

He honestly didn’t know how to respond to that. He was just trying to think of the quickest and most efficient ways to get things done. He gets to work anyway because he knows that Chim is going to take at least a minute or two in order to get the shovels for them. 

“I’m coming in,” Chimney says, and Buck moves out of the way so that he can join them. 

They quickly chip away at the rubbish, and Buck thinks everything they know so far through. A homeless called from a trash compactor. He’s there because he slept in a dumpster, the trash from the dumpster got collected, and he fell in. There is something about this story that just isn’t adding up in his mind. 

“Wait, so, uh, so, he was sleeping in a dumpster, but he has a cell phone?” He finally asks, when he’s worked through the story enough times in his head to try and put the pieces together. 

“They give them to the homeless as a part of the lifeline program. it keeps them connected to family, if they have any,” Chim answers, nonjudgmentally, and Buck appreciates it. He’s still learning, and while he knows a lot, he doesn’t know everything. 

They end up finding him, and he’s alive and mostly okay. They get him out of the garbage truck on a backboard as a precaution. He seems pretty tossed around and they don’t want to assume anything. Hen and Chimney end up taking him to the hospital while Buck and Bobby and another crew that showed up just as they were finishing cleaning up the trash they had to get out of the truck. 

There are a lot of homeless people in Los Angeles, and Buck’s heart aches for it. He knows that there are some really good organizations around that are there to help out where they can, but sometimes even that isn’t enough. Most of the homeless people that he’s met on the job have been completely ordinary people that have been served less than optimal circumstances. As much as he dislikes certain aspects of his life, he knows that despite everything, he’s one of the lucky ones. 

Maybe it has nothing to do with luck, maybe it does. There’s probably not one single answer for it either. There have been plenty of things that have happened in Buck’s life that were unlucky, but he’s made the choice not to let those things define him. 

***

The next call of the day is to an older building, where the elevator cables snapped while it was going up and sent two occupants down with it. 

Buck and Hen both went down with a basket, not knowing what condition that either of them were going to be in. 

The first thing that Buck notices is the water pooling into the elevator and his heart seizes in his chest. It was going to be one of _those_ days, wasn’t it?

The second thing he notices is that both the mom and the kid are conscious. He’s not really a kid, he’s probably seventeen or eighteen, maybe older. Buck’s not sure. He hops into the elevator, carefully getting the mom into the basket first, since she looks like she sustained the most injuries in the fall. 

The water is rising a lot faster than Buck would like it to, but he keeps his head on straight because panicking will only make everything--

The elevator drops a little further. 

\--worse.

“What the hell happened?” Bobby asks.

“The weight of the water is pulling us down,” Buck says, trying to keep his tone as level as possible, partly for Bobby and mostly for the kid that he’s trying to rescue.

“Alright, grab the kid, get the hell out of there,” Bobby says over the radio. 

He looks up at the panel he came through, and he knows that he barely fits on his own. Sure the kid was scrawny, but Buck’s not even sure he’d be able to fit through with a child, let alone a teen. 

“Yeah, but we both won’t fit,” he verbalizes, “I need another harness.”

Buck takes a deep breath and then looks at the kid. “I don’t suppose you do a lot of pull-ups?” He asks, having trouble keeping his head above water. 

“What?” 

“That’s what I thought,” he groans. “Okay.”

He manages to quickly get his harness on the kid. It’s the only way he can think through getting them both out before drowning. The water level is too high, and he puts the harness on too quickly, but it feels okay. “Pull it up.” He says, taking one last breath before he sinks underwater. 

There’s a lot that happens in his mind in the faction of a second. Part of him knows that this would be okay. He’s lived a good life, saving someone wouldn’t be the worst way to go. It’s not like he has a lot of people that would be upset if he drowned... if he died. Sure, there might be some who would shed a few tears for him, but they’d get over it. They’d move on. 

But there’s another part of him that knows that drowning isn’t the way to go. Hell, for him, it’s probably the worst way to go. He’s survived enough close calls from drowning in his life, thank you very much. So, he pushes himself down, and then up as hard as he can, grabbing onto the open panel of the elevator and pulling up as hard as he can before he’s out of the water and on top of the elevator. 

He can’t help but chuckle, maybe a little too proud of himself, but there are worse things to be upset about, right? Today he chose life. He did a good thing, he can pat himself on the back and be content.

***

They get back to the firehouse, and the first thing that Buck does is get his wet uniform off as quickly as possible. He hates the way that the wet material clings to his skin, an ever-present reminder of panic. 

Thankfully, no one says anything about it. He’s not even sure anyone even notices, since he’s pretty sure if anyone else were soaked head to toe, they’d be changing too.

The rest of the shift is rather mundane, and Buck is thankful for it. There isn’t a ton to think about, other than his date with Abby when he gets off shift and the small tasks that Bobby has given him. 

He’s thankful he’s at work, and not alone. He’d rather be here than at home, liable for another water-related nightmare or breakdown, he feels he’s had enough of that in the past few months. 

***

When he gets off shift he has a couple of errands that he needs to run before his big date. He stops at the store to get champagne and truffles, knowing that Abby had a not-so-secret appreciation for them. Then, he stopped by the florist, questioning if the bouquet he ordered was maaaaaaybe just a little over the top. He buys it anyway. 

He follows the directions the hot air balloon company gave him to the meet-up location. He gets everything set up, just-so, and goes to sit and wait where he can see Abby pull up, so he can greet her before she sees the hot air balloon.

He idly plays on his phone while he waits, then hears tires on the dirt road before he sees her car. He hops up to his feet with the bouquet in hand, sun shining directly into his eyes as he smiles and waves at her. 

The location was absolutely incredible. They were at a vineyard, the cityscape out of view with only hills full of grape trees to be seen. It wasn’t even that far out of the city, which was incredible, all things considered. 

He felt a pang of nervousness as she put her car into park. What if this was too over the top? What if she’s afraid of heights? These are all things he probably should have taken into consideration until just moments before, but it was too late now. 

“Hi!” Abby says getting out of the car. 

“Hi,” Buck grins and bounces on the heels of his feet. 

“What the heck is this?” She asks, sounding really happy and really excited, and it makes Buck’s heart skip a beat. 

“It’s our date,” he says, looking around at the beautiful vineyard. “Come on.” 

“Oh, my gosh!” She chuckles, closing the gap to give him a hug and a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Buck grins, kissing her back, then handing her the flowers. “These are for you.”

“Oh, my gosh. Thank you,” she beams, taking them, “so beautiful.”

Buck leads her up the pathway a little, taking her hand as they walk together. They come to the top of the hill, where a hot air balloon sits, waiting for them to get in. 

“Woah,” Abby grins, looking utterly amazed. 

“Uh-huh,” Buck says, feeling rather proud of himself. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“No,” he shakes his head with a smile. 

“Oh my...”

“Have you ever been up in one?” 

“No, but I’ve answered a few calls from ones that have crashed,” she replies, and Buck turns on his heel, maybe a little panicked. “I’m just kidding. It’s amazing.”

“And, uh, there is champagne and truffles on board,” Buck says as he takes her under his arm and walks with her to the hot air balloon. 

“You’re surprising me,” Abby says and looks at him lovingly, and his heart jumps in his chest. 

“Well, you’re amazing. I want to make sure I make you feel that way,” he says, meaning every word. “So today, we fly.” 

“Awesome. Awesome,” she grins, shaking her head. Her phone starts ringing, “Oh shoot, hold on, sorry.” 

She pulls her phone out of her purse and looks at Buck sympathetically “It’s my mom. ”

“Here, let me take these,” He says, holding his hands out to her to take the bouquet. 

“Oh yes, hold on, thank you... Hey, Carla what’s up?.... Car-- Shoot... Carla, Carla, maybe put her on the phone with me? Mom. Mom? It’s Abby. Can you hear me? Mom?”

Buck can only stand and watch. He doesn’t want to step in or intrude on the conversation or ask what’s going on. From the sounds of it, things are only going downhill quick. 

“Alright, Carla. I’ll-I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?” Abby says, and Buck’s heart drops. 

He doesn’t want to be mad, he can’t be. It’s a situation neither he, nor Abby have control over, and he knew that going into it. He just didn’t think that she’d drop everything, especially when Carla was there to handle it. He can’t help but be a little bitter. 

“Everything okay?” He asks, keeping his tone level. 

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I have to go,” Abby says, her face pinched into a frown. 

“Uh, hot air balloon,” he gestures, as though she may have already forgotten. He knows she hasn’t, but he doesn’t quite have the words to tell her that he’s hurt. 

“I know, I know, but it's my mom...”

“But it's a hot air balloon, you know? You can’t just... reschedule that like a dinner reservation.”

“I know, we had a really bad night, and she’s just....in a terrible place right now. Okay?” Abby says and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears and Buck feels like a horrible person for feeling even the slightest bit bitter about it. She’s not ditching him because she doesn’t love him, she’s ditching him because she has other, bigger priorities. Priorities he knew about the day that he met her. 

“No, it’s fine,” he says, trying his best to relax his stance. The last thing that he wants right now is for Abby to think that he’s mad at her. He’s not. 

“Thank you.” She says and kisses him. “Thanks, I’m sorry.” 

“Bye,” he tells her, letting her go. It’s not the easiest thing to do, but he knows it's the right thing. 

“Bye,” he says, heading back down to her car. 

Buck watches her go, trying to push down all of the emotions that he’s feeling. So much for spending his day off with Abby. Now he either gets to take the hot air balloon ride alone or go home, or see if he can pick up a last-minute shift at work. Someone probably wants the day off. 

“You wanna give me a lift to work?” Buck asks the hot air balloon guy, feeling absolutely gutted. 

****  
“I thought you had the morning off. Weren’t you supposed to be in a blimp or something?” Bobby asks while lacing up his boots. 

“Hot air balloon. And, uh, she bailed on me.” He responds, sitting down on the bench parallel to Bobby’s in the locker room. “Her mom wasn’t doing well.”

“Oh, that’s a bummer. Happens.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Buck says and he feels stupid for saying it. Bobby looks like he’s all ears so he goes ahead with it anyway. “Look, I’m-I’m super into her. You know, she is... she’s really smart. And when she makes fun of me, it doesn't make me feel bad. She has her own money. The sex is... insane.”

“Oh, here I thought she just had great hair,” Bobby deadpans and Buck can’t help but laugh. 

“She’s the perfect woman,” he says, and he feels his face fall a little. “But this is the second week in a row that my day off has been screwed up because she has to go and deal with her mom.”

“Well, people who are great tend to have full lives, with people who depend on them,” Bobby says honestly, and it helps. 

“Yeah. And-and I really like her mom, you know? I-I do. And I respect the way that Abby takes care of her,” he says and he sighs heavily, leaning in a little closer to Bobby. “I’m-I’m starting to think maybe... maybe this kind of relationship isn't for me.” 

“You mean a real one?” Bobby questions, his face a little judgemental. 

“I’m... I mean, I’m 26 right? You know, I-I want to have fun. You know? And I’m not saying that I should go and start jumping back into bed with every girl I meet. I’m-I’m not trying to be that guy anymore. But maybe I should find something that is a little less... adult.” 

“Look, all those things that you feel when you’re with Abby... the closeness, the intimacy, and trust-- those things don’t come for free. Any woman of substance and experience has lived a life, and she’s gonna come with some baggage. I think your problem is you're hoping to pull her out of this trap she’s in with her mom... That’s not gonna happen. What she needs is for you to step inside with her and keep her company in there.”

It’s times like these where Buck is especially thankful for Bobby. Bobby knows what to say and how to say it to calm down whatever train of thought Buck’s got going. He’s reassuring and good at seeing different sides to things when Buck’s thought he’d thought everything through already. Buck’s never really had a person in his life quite like Bobby before, and he’s grateful Bobby takes the time to hear him out. 

***

Their third call of the day hits Buck on a whole new level. The call is about a guy who is stuck in the maze system of their house (yeah, Buck really isn’t really sure how or why, but he’s not one to judge). They’re brothers, they find out when they get there. The brother who called to report the incident was blind and unable to locate his brother because of it. 

There’s a series of boobie traps that Chimney goes through to get into the house, and he’s talked through each one of them by the brother. 

Buck tries to get into the house via other routes. He gets up on a ladder and tries to go in through a second-story window when a bowling ball comes at him and knocks him off. It knocks the air out of his chest, but he’s able to grab onto the window sill. He manages to get himself on the ladder, looking back to see if anyone saw that. His entire team looks panicked, he’s okay though, a little stunned if anything, but he’ll get through it. 

The end of the call is what really gets him, though. He sees how these two brothers interact, and he sees how much they love each other. The blind brother is leaving his safe zone to make sure that his brother is okay and gets the proper care he needs. 

And he can’t help but wish that he and Maddie were like that. 

He wonders if they ever were like that. Buck considered her his safe space for a while. Whenever he got in trouble when he was younger, before she left for college, he would hide in her room when their dad was drunk and mad. She’d hold him, tell him that it was going to be okay, and would let him talk for hours, even if she wasn’t listening. It helped. 

But he’s not sure that she reciprocated those feelings, yanno? Maybe he just had it in his imagination that they had a good relationship while he was growing up because he didn’t have anyone else. 

Maybe he was just the dumb younger brother who bothered his teenage sister. Maybe that’s why she left. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t talk to him anymore. Or maybe she was just done listening. 

***

“Is this cool? Like, I figured we try someplace completely not special, so-so if you had to cancel it, you wouldn’t feel bad,” Buck says and he’s trying to be as playful as possible. 

“I’m sorry,” Abby covers her hands with her face. “This is great. This is great.”

“Um, so how’s your mom doing?” He asks, trying to move past it. He doesn’t care how many problems Abby has, he won’t stop listening. He wants to listen. 

“Same. I mean, worse. You know, she’s having a hard time walking, and eating is getting tougher. But the worst part, you know, is, like, it’s just the memory and the personality. But this disease-- it doesn’t just eat away at it like cancer does. It almost just pushes it away.”

“Yeah, and, um, it sounds, it sounds... awful,” he says, not sure what else to say. 

“Sorry,” Abby chuckles. “I know, it sounds awful. And I’m sure you don’t want to hear it, ‘cause I don’t want to hear it, ‘cause I don’t even want to be going through it.”

“I do want to hear it. All right, you’re-you’re living it and I want, I want you to talk to me,” he says, trying to keep his body language as open as possible. 

“I know, but it’s just...I think there’s a reason I’ve been doing this...alone, you know? It’s... hard to drag somebody through it. I don’t want... You know, I don’t want that for you,” Abby says, looking down at her coffee.

“You’re breaking up with me, right?” Buck asks, chuckling to himself in disbelief. 

“I think I just... I’m letting you off the hook,” she says honestly, and Buck’s heart hurts a little to think that she feels like maybe she’s a burden on him when she isn’t. What’s he done to make her feel that? 

“See,” Buck starts, making eye contact with her. “I feel like anyone else, most people, if they were dealing with the stuff that you have to deal with every single day, they would, they would see it as a cage. But you don’t. You find a way to break free. You find a way to be yourself. You find... life. And if the price I have to pay for being close to a woman like you is, yeah, whatever a couple of canceled dates, then, you know what? That is one heck of a good deal, and I am in. I am not going anywhere.” 

There is a bit of relief that floods Abby’s face. She leans in and kisses him, and everything is better because of it. He feels better about where they are as a couple, finally getting to sit down and talk about what's been bothering them. It makes him want to be more open with her.

He wants to tell her about Maddie, and his parents. 

He wants to tell her about drowning. 

So, he does. 

***

The next morning Buck gets a call from Abby, and he knows even before he answers it that somethings not right. 

Her mom is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are ALMOST done with Season 1! I have Chapter 10 written, I just need to get it all edited and ready to post. I shouuuuullllddd have it posted by Tuesday.... and MAYBE, just maybe I'll have Deep End Part 2 up and ready to go sometime in the next week or so. I'll have more of a timeline on that in the next few days. 
> 
> Your comments are sooooo deeply appreciated, and I'm so excited for what's coming next!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely @fernnette and @donut247hey for being an amazing sounding board for ideas and things.

Grief is hard. Buck doesn’t know another word to explain it. When he gets the call from Abby, he’s devastated. 

Sure, he’s only known Patricia Clark for a relatively small amount of time, but that makes her impact on his life no less. Sure, he’s lost people in his life. His uncle died when he was 15 or 16, and that was hard. That was different, though, he thinks. 

See, his uncle was a dick, just like his dad. He didn’t have any sort of good relationship with him, and thus, losing him didn’t hurt. 

Patricia though, she was kind. She had a certain kind of spunk to her that was just fun to be around, especially when she was lucid. The interactions that they had were always short, but Buck came away from them feeling like he was doing the right thing by being with Abby, by walking through this with her. 

But now that she’s gone? Buck wishes that he knew Patricia better. He wishes that he got to hear her laugh one more time. He wishes that he got to hear one more story about Abby and her brother growing up. He wishes for a lot of things, and it really makes him realize how fragile life actually is. 

In the end, it wasn’t Alzheimer's that took her. It was a pulmonary embolism, and she died peacefully in her sleep. 

The thing about death is that even though you might be expecting it, it doesn't make it any easier. They had already made all of the arrangements, knowing that Alzheimer’s was going to take her eventually... but that doesn’t mean that having to plan a funeral, or contact funeral homes and the cemetery was an easy process. It wasn’t. It took a lot out of Abby, and Buck made sure to stay by her side when he wasn’t at work. He helped her through every detail that needed to be planned. He held her when she cried. He listened when she wanted to talk, and he tried his best to be a welcome presence when she didn’t.

Buck didn’t know if he was doing the right things or not. He just followed what his gut told him to do. He was especially careful of her feelings, he didn’t want to step on her toes and trigger any grief... but he also wanted to make sure that her needs were taken care of and that she knew it was okay to be upset. 

It’s an ever going, ever-growing process. 

But now, at Patricia’s funeral, he sheds a few tears. He stands by her side. He does what she needs, and takes her home when she’s ready to go. There’s nothing he’d rather be doing. 

This, helping Abby, is like he’s in an inflatable liferaft, one of the dinky ones that don’t work particularly well, but they do their job alright. The water is a little choppy and he’s still a little worried about going overboard, but he knows that if he keeps his gravity centered, he should be okay. But, he knows that Abby isn’t okay. Right now, she’s in the water and she’s swimming. Buck’s just rowing along, a steady presence if she feels like she can’t make it to dry land. 

He watches as she rearranges the apartment, but nothing quite seems to fit where she wants it. He helps her organize her mother's things, taking on the tasks that seem the most mentally draining to her. It’s a process, and it’s hard, but he feels like it’s helping. Like he’s helping. 

There are moments that Buck isn’t quite sure how to navigate. He knows that she’s hurting, but he doesn’t quite understand the magnitude of the hurt. All he can really do is hug her, tell her he’s here, and that it’s okay.

The last thing that he wants to do is shut down what she’s feeling. He knows better than anyone that your thoughts and your feelings, that guilt, those insecurities, it’ll drown you. It’ll drag you to the deep end with no mercy. 

***

Buck has spent a lot of time with Carla since Patricia passed, and if he didn’t like her before, he certainly loves her now. She’s the type of person who brings joy wherever she goes. He never has to second guess himself around her, because she always speaks her mind. It’s comforting in ways Buck’s not sure he knows how to express. 

She helps Abby with all of the paperwork and bureaucratic nonsense that Buck doesn’t really understand. Buck helps with little projects around the apartment, and does a couple of donation runs when Abby asks him to. 

Now, though, he and Carla are going through all of Patricia’s medications and supplements while Abby and her brother work through hospital paperwork and other things that they needed to do just the two of them. 

“Hey, hey,” Buck says quietly to Carla, coming back into the kitchen after having put a few things away. 

“Hmm?” Carla barely looks up. 

“I found another Patricia box,” He says, setting it on the counter where they were working, and her interest peaks. 

“Oh...” she says, picking up a piece of artwork with a laugh. “Wow, she kept it all.”

“Yeah,” Buck grins, rifling through the contents of the box gently, not to disturb the order that things were in. “It seems like Abby doesn’t want to keep any of it.” 

“Hm,” Carla agrees. 

“No way, look at this,” Buck says, showing Carla a clipping of an old newspaper with the headline _Local Teen Goes For Gold_. “This is her, right?”

“That’s Abby,” she confirms. 

“Abigail Clark,” Buck beams as he walks into the dining room where Abby is sitting with her brother. “You never told me you made the Olympic team! What is this?”

“200-meter butterfly,” Matthew grins, “she was a rockstar.” 

“That was a long time ago,” Abby grins, taking the newspaper clipping from Buck.

“You got to have this out,” Buck says, “you should be proud, you were an Olympian. I’m gonna grab a frame for it. You got some empty ones in the closet. I’m-- that’s going up, that’s for sure.” 

So, he does. He grabs a frame for it, and he puts it up in the dining room where everyone can see it. He hopes it makes her smile. 

***

“Romancingtheuniform.com? That’s my dating site. That’s where I met Tatiana,” Chim says, holding Bobby’s computer and looking over his _dating profile_. “Holy crap, are you actually putting yourself back out on the scene?” 

“My sponsor said maybe it’s time,” Bobby says with a nod as Buck looks the profile over. It's gold, honestly. It needs a lot of work, but he’s getting a hell of a kick out of looking it over. “I spend too much time in my work, in my head, and that dating, having a girlfriend would help get me out in the world.”

“I think it’s great, you taking the leap,” Hen says like the wonderful person that she is. “It’s brave. While at the moment, I think that dating or sleeping with someone is not worth the trouble, but I’m happy for you.” 

“Look, this just isn't me,” Bobby says, when Buck sits down next to him, looking over the dating profile. “I-I feel like a probie. Stretching his first job.”

“You’re not a rookie, you’re just rusty,” Hen shrugs

“Last time I had a date I was in my 20’s,” Bobby deadpans. 

“Yeah, this is terrible,” Buck says honestly. Too honest? Maybe, but Bobby was always too honest with him. “And this picture looks like you’re trying to sell real estate from a bus stop bench. And you know what? I will not be buying, all right? You cannot describe yourself as, ‘I am a lifesaver, not a heartbreaker.’” 

“Why not? That’s solid, that’s sweet.” 

“No, it is cheese. Sweet, sweet cheese,” Buck says and he cannot contain his laughter. 

“You like flan?” Chimney asks, laughing.

“Good flan is the bomb!” Bobby defends himself. 

“Oh, he...” Buck starts but sets himself into another giggling fit.

“You don’t?” Bobby asks.

“You have an AOL email account still?” Buck asks when he’s finally got control over his giggling. “It is literally like you were frozen in ember in 1995.”

“It’s ‘amber,’ not ‘ember,’ you idiot,” Bobby deflects. 

“Who cares,” Buck grins, “you can never show this to a girl.” 

“Why not?” 

“Okay, this profile is a joke profile for a guy no one ever wants to go out with.”

“You know what, maybe you are not the right person he should be taking dating advice from, Buckaroo,” Chimney states.

“And why is that?” Buck raises his eyebrows, “because last time I checked, I’m in a stable, monogamous relationship with an amazing woman. Hell, I’m the healthiest dater at this whole table.” 

Everyone looks at Buck, and then at each other, silent. 

“Oh my god, he’s right,” Chimney says with disbelief, and everyone laughs. 

“The world is turned upside down,” Hen grins. 

“Yeah, okay, laugh, huh?” Buck grins back. “I am proof that real change is possible.”

“What the hell, Evan Buckley,” a woman says as she comes into the loft of the fire station where they had all congregated. 

“Can we help you?” Bobby asks.

“You lead me on for six weeks?” She asks, stepping right in front of Buck, “the sexiest, deepest, most romantic, most intimate relationship I’ve ever had with a man-- I told you everything. You told me everything. And I am not an easy nut to crack. Is this your sick game? Make a girl reveal every fear and secret and turn-on, and then you just disappear? Is ghosting girls your thing?”

“I’m sorry, are you sure you have the right Evan Buckley?” Bobby asks for Buck because honestly, Buck has no idea what to say. He’s got no clue who she is or what she's talking about and he is mortified. 

“You mean the Evan Buckley who’s a firefighter? Who works here and was on the news, and climbed a roller coaster and looks exactly like you?” She asks, her tone ever so insinuating. 

“Listen, yeah, sure, that-that is definitely me,” Buck says, gesturing to himself, “but the-the me that I am and the him that you’re describing, that is not the same person.” 

She slaps him, right across the face. 

“Whoa! Hey, whoa,” Bobby says, standing up to try and put some distance between her and Buck. Instead of doing anything else, she leaves. 

“Did you see that?” Buck asks, turning to face them as she is storming out of the building. What he faces are three unbelieving faces. Three people who think that she’s right. They trust her, a total stranger, more than they believe him. “No, no, I swear, I have never seen her before.”

“If you say so,” Bobby says like he doesn’t mean it. 

“No, I do say so. Okay, I swear, I-I don’t know who that was,” he tries to defend himself. “I have-- I have found real intimacy. Right? You know this. Come on. I haven’t even flirted with anyone else.” 

“Sure, you haven’t,” Hen says, “yep, you’re proof that real change is possible.” 

“Guys...” He says, but the alarm starts sounding to send them out on a call. 

He feels defeated... like the raft he’s on is deflating. 

***

Buck has lunch with Abby the next day when he’s off work. They go out to a nice little bistro downtown. It’s quaint, cute, and has all kinds of good stuff on the menu. She’s been a little off since her mom died, so Buck’s been trying to get her out of the house and out of their usual rhythm. He thinks it might be partially for his own sanity as well. 

“So, what did your brother... you know, did he like me?” Buck asks once they’ve gotten their food. 

“I think he did,” she says with a soft laugh. 

“Yeah?” 

“Although he was really funny when he thought you’d moved in with me,” she states, and Buck pinches his brows in the realization of what she said. 

“I guess I kind of did, right?” He questions. “Is that okay? My- my stuff being at your place?”

“Yeah,” she says, “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it like that, but you’ve been so amazing through this.”

“I got your back, you know that.” 

“Really,” she nods.

“Hello, Evan,” a girl says as she approaches their table, looking less than pleased. 

“Um, hi?” Buck shares a look with Abby. 

“You seriously don’t recognize me,” she says and it's more of a statement than a question. “I look exactly like my profile pic. Daphne B. The girl that you’ve been DMing for the past three months. Well, until you fell off the face of the earth. You think it’s cool to just blow people off?”

“No, no, no, hold on, hold on,” Buck says, really nor sure what to say. What are you supposed to say when someone you’ve never met comes up to your table and says things like that to you in front of your girlfriend? “This cannot be happening again.” 

“What do you mean again?” Abby asks, shooting him a look. 

“You said that I had the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen,” Daphne continues, “they’re real, unlike your profile status. You said you were single.”

“Did you say that recently?” Abby asks, and Buck is mortified. Like if lightning could strike him right now, that would honestly be more preferred. 

“No,” He shakes his head, “no, Abby, Abby, this is just a big misunderstanding.”

“No, no, no, there’s no misunderstanding,” Daphne chimes in, being less than helpful. “I’ve been communicating with this jerkwad for three months and now he doesn’t know who I am.” 

“You’re the second girl in two days to say that I’ve ghosted them,” he says in disbelief. 

Daphne doesn’t even hesitate. She picks up his water and throws it on him. 

“Woah, hey, come on,” he says, trying to be cool about it when it was very much not cool. 

“Oh my god,” Abby looks appalled. 

“I just did you a huge favor, lady. You’re welcome,” Daphne says before she storms off. 

“What...?” Abby asks, still reeling. She looks like she believes her. 

“No, I-I swear. I don’t know who that was,” Buck defends himself.

“I thought you weren’t doing that anymore.”

“Hey, I’m not. You know, hey, you know me, right? Come on,” Buck's heart is racing. 

“I don't know, I don't even know who I am right now,” she grits. “But I definitely don’t feel like I know who you are right now.” 

“Abby,” he says, trying to stop her as she leaves. She doesn’t even turn back to look at him. “Abby, come on!” 

His liferaft is sinking. 

***

“Hey, yo, Rebar, come clean, this is you, right?” Buck asks as he comes up to the loft of the fire station where Chimney is sitting. He’s not even here for work. “Putting girls up to this, you think you’re funny?”

“You know what, Buck, I really wish it was me,” Chim says, putting his hands up in defense. 

“Okay, you wish, you wish, let’s see...”

“But,” Chimney emphasizes, “it’s not. I bet if you updated your relationship status on your Myspace page, it might clear up all this confusion.”

“Hey, who even uses Myspace?” He sure as hell didn’t. Sure, he was old, but he wasn’t that old. 

“Oh, evidently, you do,” Chimney says, and lifts the laptop up for Buck to see. 

“The hell. That’s my Facebook picture,” Buck says, looking the profile over. This was all stuff that was vaguely reminiscent of him, enough that someone could have grasped over a couple of interviews and done a little digging, but nothing actually about him.

What. The. Fuck. 

“Yet another disappointed young lady came into the firehouse today,” Chim says, looking ever so smug. “After I convinced her to stop shouting and throwing rocks, she showed me this. Don’t you get it? Some weirdo saw your B-movie star looks in the news and thought pretending to be you would be a good lure to catfish the women of L.A.”

“So I’m a-I’m a Yankees fan who loves Star Wars?”

“Uh, Star Wars prequels,” Chimney laughs. 

“Hey, it’s not funny,” he frowns. “This is really messed up.” 

“Yeah, it is, but come on. Some dude doing the boring legwork, having hotties come to your door... I mean, what, is that really that awful?”

“Abby is freaking out. This cannot keep happening,” Buck says, because yes, it really really is that awful. “Who is he?” 

“Okay, your imposter is not that bright. He’s already started exchanging emails with Brandy,” Chim informs. 

“Who’s Brandy?”

“The angry girl throwing the rocks. Who’s actually very smart and very cool, and who may or may not come to my place next week to watch the game with us, so please, don’t come. The point is, if you know what you’re looking for, you can find the IP address in the header of the messages,” Chim says, pointing to the computer. 

“Just looks like a bunch of random numbers.” 

“Yeah, Buck, random numbers that we can trace to his actual address,” Chimney points out with a sly smile. 

Buck was in 100%. They were going to catch this guy and put a stop to him, catfishing girls, so that hopefully, he’d stop being harassed by random women who think they know him. 

****

Chim works his magic, and the moment that he’s off shift they head to the address together. Buck drives, and maybe he speeds a little on his way over because he’s nervous, but really, he just wants this to be done and over with. The last couple of days have been hell. They’ve been emotional turmoil of him trying to figure out what the fuck was going on and where he might have known the first girl from. He’d deleted tinder off his phone months ago, but he had to go through and double-check to make sure that someone hadn’t hacked his account. 

No one had, which was the most frustrating part. At least if someone had hacked his account, he would have been able to reset the password or delete his account entirely. He checked any other app he could think of, too, but nothing. Myspace was the only place he hadn’t checked, mostly because he was pretty sure that Myspace was completely irrelevant, and that no one used it anymore. 

Needless to say, Chimney helping him figure it out was like a weight had been taken off his chest... or maybe that they’d been able to tape up the holes in his liferaft. 

“Hey!” Buck says, walking up to the trailer. He bangs on the door. “Hey, catfish! The jig is up.” 

“Easy, guy, keep a cool head,” Chimney says, giving Buck a stern look. 

“Why? This guy’s a criminal.” Buck shoots back. “Come on, freak. We got your number, open up.”

“Maybe he’s not home,” Chimney supplies, and Buck keeps banging on the door. 

“LAFD! Come to the door!” Buck yells.

“Must be a recluse, or maybe a meth addict,” Chim says, “He’s blacked out all the windows... Oh jeez.”

Chimney hops back for a second, then bangs on the window. Buck’s still not sure what he’s doing... Wait, are those flies? Those are hundreds, if not thousands of flies on the window. 

“Oh, this is not going to be pretty,” Chim huffs.

They call to get a medical examiner out to the trailer because it becomes clear very, very quickly that the guy is dead. It surprisingly doesn’t take too long for the team to show up, Buck thought it would be longer considering the guy was already dead and it was low priority. It must be a slow day. It’s always a slow day when he’s not working. 

“How does this happen?” Buck asks when they’re in the trailer, masks over their noses because the smell is a whole new level of disgusting that Buck never wants to have to smell again. 

“My guess?” Chim looks over at him. “Heart attack.”

“It’s kinda sad, you know? The coroner said he’s probably been lying there ten days, but no one notices?” He frowns. He hopes he doesn’t go out like that, all alone. 

“The guy was a shut-in. The park manager says no one’s seen him in like two years.”

“Well, it’s tragic,” he sighs.

“Let’s not forget, this was an online predator,” Chimney points out. 

“Was he though?” Buck questions. “It’s not like he was tricking women into hooking up. He never went out.”

“If he could even get out,” Chim furrows his brows. “Why are you defending him?”

“I’m just saying... it’s kind of a bummer, you know? He hated himself so much he had to pretend to be someone else.”

“Don’t get a lot of cases that bloat this much,” the coroner interrupts. “Body’s probably double the size it was at time of death. Bloat set in after rigor mortis, filled him with methane and CO2, along with decomposition fluids probably because it’s so hot in here, and he expired with a full stomach. I just don’t know how to get him out of here. We either got to knock down this wall or,” he chuckles, “roll this whole thing down to the morgue.”

Buck looks out the door and all he can see are news crews, and people gathering as they try to figure out what’s going on. It’s wrong, all of it. 

“No, no,” Buck shakes his head. “Okay, look, this guy may not have lived with much dignity, but maybe, he can still die with some. I mean, these people are already treating him like he’s a circus sideshow. Now, let’s not make it any more of a spectacle. I know a way we can get him out of here in a body bag.” 

“That’s a great speech,” the coroner says. “But, that would take hours.”

“Why? You just drain all the gas and gunk and stuff.”

“We would have to use large-bore needles and start the embalming process here.”

“Okay, so let’s do that,” Buck says like it's obvious. 

“He’s dead,” he says. “He doesn’t care if people are gawking at him. All right? He doesn’t have any feelings to hurt anymore.”

Wow, insensitive. 

“Listen,” Buck sniffs, inching in a little closer, using his height to his full advantage as he steps into the coroner's bubble. 

“You are not about to beat up a coroner, now are you, Buck?” Chim, ever the voice of reason, chimes in. 

He’s not about to beat up a coroner. He has a better idea. All of the supplies that he brought in with him, have _sharp, stabby_ looking things, so Buck picks one up, and he sinks it right down into the dead guy's stomach.

The result is probably the grossest thing that Buck has ever, and will ever experience in his life. He immediately regrets every decision that led up to this point, every decision that led him to become a firefighter, and every decision that his parents made to bring him to God’s green earth. 

The guy bursts, but only a little. The liquid, whatever it is, spews all over Buck’s hand. If Buck had any worse of a gag reflex, he’d be puking. Everywhere. 

The smell? Unreal. Like the world's most horrific fart, mixed with dead-person smell, then multiplied by your least favorite smell, all combined into one. 

“Nice work,” the coroner scoffs. 

“Yeah, I thought he was going to pop,” Buck digresses. 

“I told you, draining him is going to take time.”

“What do you got, dinner reservations?” Buck sasses. “Let’s get to work, okay?”

The process itself is even more disgusting than Buck ever would have imagined. He’s going to have nightmares from this. 

Chimney looks like he’s about to lose his lunch, and Buck feels about the same. It’s vile. Buck has a mask on and it’s burning his eyes the smell is so horrible. They’re in there for at least an hour if not more, and then it seems like everything stops. 

“Is that it? Is it done?” Buck asks and immediately regrets it. 

“I think so?” the coroner says, just as one of the needles pops from his body and sends whatever liquid his body was draining flying out, and it oozes all over his stomach. 

Once they’re finally done, officially, Buck pushes the crowd out of the way so that they can move the body out of the trailer and into the van so he can be transported to the morgue. 

“Nice job, Buck,” Chim says as they’re getting ready to leave. “You did good.” 

***

“He was like a 350-pound mess, been dead for a whole week,” Buck says, trying to explain the situation to Abby. He’s really just trying to explain himself because he wants her to know, no he needs her to know that he hasn’t been talking to other girls or cheating on her with anyone. He’s been good, he’s been loyal. “These girls are getting blown off because the dude died. That-that is all there is to it. Okay? I-I need you... I need you to know that. I need you... Abby, do you believe me?” 

“Yeah, I believe you. I believe you,” She nods. 

Buck can’t help but let his head drop and sigh in relief. There’s a lot of things that Buck would do in a relationship. Cheating, though? That’s a hard, hard-line that he never wants to cross. He watched how his parents were growing up, how distrusting they always were of each other, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be the guy who puts any kind of fear in a woman's heart that he might even be capable of that. He doesn’t want that kind of fear in Abby’s heart. He loves her way too much for that. 

“Okay,” he says with a relieved chuckle, like the weight of the world has been lifted off his chest. 

“I’m kind of relieved, ‘cause I was kinda feeling a little crazy there for a minute.” 

“No, no. Hey, hey, you’re so not crazy,” he says and pulls her in for a kiss. “You’re so not crazy, okay?”

“It’s a crazy story.”

“No... yeah,” Buck says and moves to sit next to her. “We got there and it was just...”

He freezes. There’s a bag on her bag. Why is there a bag on her bed? Was she leaving? Where was she going? Why was she going? Breathe.

“Um...” he pauses, trying to formulate the words in his mouth. “Are you-you going somewhere?”

“Um...” She nods, inhaling sharply. “I bought a plane ticket to go to Dublin.”

“Dublin, as in...” This isn’t lining up in his head. Why is she going to Dublin? Why hadn’t they talked about this? “Dublin, Ireland?”

“Yes, Dublin, Ireland,” she nods. “I’m-I’m gonna go, for a while probably. I don’t know. I don’t know for how long. A few months, maybe.”

Months? Like when Maddie said that she was going away for school and would come home every few months and never did? Or when she said that Buck could come and visit her and Doug every few months after they got married and never let him over? Or like the time that his dad told him that he couldn’t see his childhood friend Sawyer for a few months, and then just didn’t let him go over there ever again? Months... they never really meant months. 

“W-why?”

“For Mom,” she says as though that’s going to clear up anything for him. “She always wanted to go to Ireland. She never went. So I need to go. Also because...I’m kind of lost, Buck. And I just lost my mom, but... I realize I also kind of lost myself a long time ago. And... I don’t know, I think somewhere along the way I just started caring so much for everybody else that I stopped caring for myself. I mean, I used to be a person who would travel the world swimming in competitions. And I... demanded so much from myself. And I feel like I need to find that again.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Buck’s not sure what to say, so he doesn’t. He lets her figure out what else she needs to say because this clearly means a lot to her. She’s hurting and he doesn’t want to make the hurt any worse. His feelings can wait. 

“And I feel like, I need to have something to give,” she says, “to my job and to the people who are counting on me and to the people that I care about. I care about you so much. You’re amazing. And these last few months... I think you’ve gotten me, at least halfway, to the person I want to be. But I’ve got to do this so that I know I have something to give,”

Bringing his hurt and his emotions into this really isn’t going to get them anywhere, he decides. There’s a fine line between helping someone who is hurting, and adding to the hurt, and here in this moment, he knows that what he says next is a defining moment for them. He knows that if he adds to the hurt, then it’s likely that they’re done. That she’s going to go away and she’s never coming back. He’s not going to do that. He wants to help her. 

“I am excited for you,” He says, jaw quivering. “Almost as much as I am, sad for me.”

“I’m going to miss you,” she says, nodding in understanding. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss you, too,” he swallows, then he pulls her into a hug. He hopes she understands. He hopes she gets it. 

***

Buck drives Abby to the airport. He debated it, honestly. He figured it would probably be especially hard for him, and he’s got to say, the drive isn’t easy.

He gets her to talk to him more about her plan, where she wants to go, and what she wants to see. She’s going to start in Dublin, then rent a car and see all that the country has to offer. He can’t say he’s not jealous. He is. 

He gets out of the car with her and brings her to the International Departures door. He stops in his tracks before they get to the door and he looks at her. 

“Are you not going to come in with me?” Abby asks, looking back. 

“I learned a while ago you never go beyond the glass doors.”

“I must be crazy to be leaving you behind,” she says, stepping closer to him. 

“You’re not leaving anything behind,” he says, looking into her eyes. “You’re moving toward something. And, I’m going to be right here when you come back, okay?”

Abby nods, so Buck gives her a little nudge. 

“Go on, you got this,” he says. 

“Take care of yourself, okay?” She says

“Yeah, you too, Abby,” he fights back the tears. He’s.... he’s a lot of things right now. He’s happy or her, but he’s hurt and a lot of other emotions wrapped up all at the same time. He leans in to kiss her and rests his forehead against hers. 

Then she leaves. She walks through those doors and he watches them close. 

And just like that, he’s alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of Part One! I hope you've enjoyed it thus far, and I promise some happier times ahead. In case it wasn't clear, this is going to turn into Buddie, but it'll be a slow burn. Any ideas are more than welcome, and please don't hesitate to come find me on tumblr @ineedapuppyandsomevodka.   
> Let me know what you think!


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